Aptitude city grew into immense sweat forest, without so much green. A pressing vantage of giving up struck a chord. That excess in word made detail spread beyond the regular dormant. Proving what, then, children? That each word, when it is a poem, congeals to a place and knows no more? Force equals collateral. We beat silences from the earth itself, paying good money to how our machine runs. Nota bene: it runs and runs, and when it doesn't, those several mean districts fall into one final document. Read it and weep.
Boasting city, with a sweet plane of mundane. Those who read on stay strict in their damage. It takes youth to be enthused, then a drudgery of fighting on. Yet that itself creates a quaking federation. Do we know the results beforehand? LAZY INCREMENTS JAM THE AIRWAVES. A poem isn't safe with these trades. Let us read a map together.
Fitted testaments stick close to facts, which tempt some flicker on the registry board but do not wholly combine. Results work their way in, then out. Fat steam rises from the sidewalk like children, yet the problem remains large. As the problem grows and engages, its building size stalks the imagination. We love pizza and know that we've proven everything, yet the building sticks the sky, amazing us. Power is a conclusion, not a wet bank of flowers.
If flowers, that is, could flourish in the underbreath of this dialogue, something as rich as intention could possibly flourish too. Yet the bounds stand undetected tho perversely complete. And now people are running off to cottages!
Waiting on the political side of doing something hasn't closed all doors but the smell from the alley may seem otherwise. We wait in the wings for a minute, a very well proportioned minute in which and with which so much. And you're telling me you love your resource. And I'm saying something, in reply. And you're deeply indented in the troubled paragraph. And I have yet to make the right meme. And you're staying close to the edge with a love of your plainness. And I'm all for establishing, sorting, ripping occasionally and riot. And you're right, that's no riot. And I'm right, I didn't mean riot. Thus the play begins.
