Far be it for me to pretend to connect the preverbial dots of ancient
anachronistic parlances, surefire analogies that predicate the
reader’s enhacement on bikers’ rally jargon, set forth by the eyepiece
continuum ergo cosmetically rich but mean in temperament social order.
Satiated by the lust of Tom Dooley’s overture, a peculiarly obvious
repartee of second-guessing Satan’s dictates, is a tempting apple
for man of prehistoric providence. – Sinz
The void of silence whispers assurances of benign transfigurations in
the ever unfolding desolation of metastasizing entropic manifestations
hiding beneath our most sacred hopes and despairs.
Let us wait in wonder for the merciful annihilation of the infinite perspectives
of all possibilities for redemption and salvation. – Esinz