Those of a reducing pattern, divide to the contextual bead, a bursting slip of contentment, the expelling flavourful sections, reduction to placate in golden nectar, more quip, sluices tender a thirst they quell to jaggedly incision, the bounty of lust, extrapolating in zest to prone, pierce and engender with cause, abstaining the power of ill content.

Holistic in seething contemplation there the gown lay drawn, by inarticulate narrative, borne to the tense imploding innovation, charismatic of vains intermittent sentence, ahold to the escarpment, embellished to those of empowerment, for clouded awareness held to the lasting eve.

Midnight wheels round to incline with naught image, the wisdom beneath each contorting flow of shallow breath, murmurous to have label a softly sound night, handsome in devout, assuredly close for the nectar they last our divinity.

2021 Adam Blewett ©