the plight of this concoction

depending on this shakey sign, this stepping-in to appease the tumble in motion is the sweet smell of compulsion acquainting itself with another priority

is there an afterwards to put into effect or can we originate from impassivity

she struck a cord, shifting the background, a craze for exclamation, a treat left just a little too late, which nevertheless throws light on an aptitude for silence

in allotting reception its place in the omission, we lose a chance to leave our careworn utterances behind

living with the evidence or racing to the source of split milk is hardly the point, it’s a matter of kneading, pressing the rent out of shape to salute this brain-teaser of a second chance, knowing only too well it is nothing of the sort

but participating anyway, we are a long way from the kleptomaniac’s ideal you could say

embodied in a knotty plan the trackless deep is distilled, the precious stake in escalation

as we thin out our interest in concoctions that once lay in a bend in the worldwide halting, just shy of arranging unprecedented ladders up to the junction, an ad hoc junction at that, unparalleled or anticipated

at that moment of relief she takes care while trembling in the balance of that outstretched arm waiting to catch the pin if it drops

compliance, at a time like this, misrepresents progress and bursts the seams in high places

the plight…