Rhythmatic Riddling Ritualistic Room

Rose buds spiral angelic knives for an unattractive natural nymph; the design is a famed objection seated inside a courtroom select deviants witness. I shall not attend for defense or prosecution. I prefer to kiss; how did roses form upon his chest?

"You just remember I am your husband."

"I won't be able to recall anything except for how much I adore him."

"Who are you talking to?"

Rolf must know else I am oblivious this moment amongst every other I spared to be a woman, wherever, whomever, whatever she searches I desire to be found.

"I don't remember."

"You will remember me."

The night is an orange glow compiled of fool's gold; I rather not be deceived but I am. There is a man who appears before me dressed to a checkered plaid brown. Tacks are painful inside my lower abdomen; I must of swallowed a dozen.

Love letters stack against the moon; I wonder who wrote them as I walk away.

"Whose car is this?"

"I don't remember which was supposed to go....."

"Thaddeus, this is fine."

Twisting through a rain drop drifting swerve a gray loose coil meets a whirl; I must be asleep but this vehicle handles me well. A peculiar blue car follows to leave me for programmable navigation yet I still do not know where I am.

"You are angry..."

Brad and Cindy rage silence of a world I address with suspicion. Their experience cannot be expressed through language or actions; they will electrocute me on the executioner's chair of naivete. Unfortunately for the misfortune of others I do share whenever possible. Lightning is a transferable dose of unseen anguish.

A crowd of people wearing house decorum summons me into another transcendental stitch of clothing. I am a white t-shirt and baggy jeans.

"You're the best dressed person in the room."

"I am?"

"Yeah at least you can move."

"Who is this for?"

"They stood us up."

New York is another Moscow; the color of presence is black. We are unlikely common guests and everyone treats us as neighbors. Gingham and Shea, also known as Sister Marie amongst nunnery, are bedazzled by street lamps.

"The shape is absolute artistry of architectural electrical movement."

"Feminine yet exuding masculine strength."

I desired to be a transfigure wired aluminum alloy post.

"What happened?"

"Drained..."

My intermediate goal is to beautify Quasimoto. I acquired a few provisions; metal scuff pads, airbrush sprayer, automobile permanent primer, two five spoke wheels, park crushing handle bars, blood curdling chain, musical gears, beastly pedals. A few pieces are missing and so is the man who built our nightmarish hunchback.

"You got to bolt all that together.....like that?"

"Yeah!"

"That tight?"

"Yeah..."

"How come..."

"It's for you."

Peanut butter jars pile a bunch next to our sleeping mouse. I build a castle while he dreams of cheesy module mortification. Hippopotamus burps belong to this characteristic of mammal monopolies; the stock market is of mice and men. He rolls over to inform me minced peanuts melted into smoothness is the delicacy of cottonmouths.

"Snakes?"

"I need some apple juice."

"Oh..."

"Dry mouth.....those snakes live in the bay. Guy over at the depot told me they suck blood right out of people."

"Really....."

"I hope they do; people piss me off."

Baxter pronounces Katarzyna's name incorrectly; I speak out of instinctual respect. Joy overcomes him while I die the death of daylight. This sound from his voice is pleasant for me. I desire another existence for us to be free so we may engage each other's preliminary cognitive response mechanisms without machines.

This show about a slender woman with cosmetic friends and satirical names is a fair depiction of illusion amongst innuendo. Television informs me of what you are doing and fronts for what I am doing. I do this for you; you should know. I did it for you; you should know.

"Especially you..."

"Huh?"

"You know..."

"Hhhmmm....."

"There are artistic depictions of you."

"Oh..."

"Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

"You spoke!"

"Yes..."

"I never heard you speak!"

"And why not..."

"I always look at your lips."

"I have them for a reason..."

"Will you be able to handle it?"

"Handle what?"

"Nothing..."

"Will you?"

"I can blend in..."

"Blend into what?"

"The environment!"

"The environment does not synthesize for insoluble properties."

"I know what that means but I don't get it."

"We won't unless it happens."

"If it happens I'll be able to find you."

"Maybe we should make ourselves known."

Damned as I am but I do recall some of our effects not being special at all.