Paektu
By: Idle Saturdays
Tags: Literature, Prose, Writing, Creative Writing, Painting

Litharge and moisture fathom what pork industry New York has become, thrall a ratiocinating revenant to Paris to bother the remonstrances of vetoed desire. Cold impulses, lozenges are important. A wedding is a deluge to inanition, and sight to landscape abstraction. It rains businesslike between the triplicity of breakable glass and rust, outside the halls ferrying meanspirited self-indulgence. Self-defining light places birefringence on overabundant breakages. Phases separate, the magnetic force of a frescoed obscene laughter redraws commiseration. Tissues dissolve in balmic waterfrontages. Parlances embrace the wind of stockpiling occlusions. Outside voices are crashing the unimpeachable grain of embourgeoisement against the sweet ecstasy of fornication. And that’s what marriage are the infusers are hanging along gridirons expanding in the sun. Toward sophisticated tarmacs, the frescoes of caesaropapism and syndicoanarchism sharpens at the breach of carnal, symposium of allision and fuselage. Long distance lovers meet at point of entry to Phnom Penh, outside the fatuities of our former faubourgs. A programmed destination booked by an incumbent ambassador, a timed watch and time for niches to reconcile. With an electric car as company through a coordinated metrosystem, a windowed autolife is made of choices for the free trials for plasticized trails. It’s in there, a sense is hiding among the white-painted abestoes, among some excuses that we make for friends that we suspend. Chinese paintings characterizes the intrigue through a labyrinthed illumination, overhanging blowed lanterns are first and foremost pencil-drawn to scale. A prototype is yesterday’s meeting with today’s refinements, attraction would materialize through magnetic induction. A change in power through integrated circuits and switchboard. if the sun afterwards is on fullscreen, a hermeneutic heart is throbbing between scalene triangles of youth drawn into fruition, through fascination for precipitation and dream’s placelessness, additional stereophony would be vectored into places. In the morning, the upright face and impulse of an alarm clock schedules my garden–variety life. A picket fence overhung with routing cables surrounds me, intended for keeping with the veterinarian schedule of our farmed out, generic lives. The dusk is populated with variations of lifeworshippers, embourgeoisement is branded on the invisible hand for forbearance and domestication. A purist carnivore brings rearing to pigs, callousness of the mawing tradition tear into fleshiness of the thinker. A packet of cephalosporins crowns a grand piano, a former note in its silence as old as memory, in its forbidden gears lesson notes are anonymous voices. Monsoon atmosphere is anesthesiac, its effect limbers up the staircase; the entire universe moving translationally through a column of darkness. An updated column from the art sale waiting on the tray of the printing machine. Ashes, appendices gather under impastoed subluxation, frescoed capitulation in calcite, the sinusoid of the pressurized wind is guaranteed. The wood is erring to an appetizing note, the circumference of coneflowers to sweet worldliness. The deliberations of young age embolden in the mammalian heart grown in embroidered substrate for excitable sin to break, and at old age expiration dates labelled to a tool begin to erase. A chary rake adjusted to the trunk of the empyrean leaves, as something that has brought life to the powerful charm to the distillery and brume of labour is rusting. Rake hypotenused to a fernel lamp and a levelled beach of sand. For the sorption of tears the view is consecrated with the obscene scripture of many shoes on indiscriminate passage. The Thames view is warmed with marine temperature. The predominance of young age, allows us to provide the exceptional photographs of youth. A signed marriage contract beacons the adages of autopoiesis. The evil has been done now, sleeping with whoever is different from the one we started with. In Eden, observable universe, revolving, rotating is also moving forward a whole through space-time continuum, festering hunger feathers into turpitude. What rational conclusion have we come to now: that nothing was special about me. That was why arguments were started.

valloton, felix — bristonische heidelandschaft