backing out

Optimum, really. The next trashings and treasures were emphatic and corporal. Touched by a lick of grey, the mustache laid ashen grim to this ceremony, laying frets to the gaiety and precepts unconditionally, back-toeing the lesson into nights of fit and rage. In a beckoning, or rather hasty retort, what was forbidden elsewhere couldn't cable a hold-on until the release of moths and weeks; monthly dialects that could only kindly shatter the bundle with beige and chamois strands, pillar-legs, exhumes, and rightly sussed, you'd imagine. The portents prayed though, prawns and peepers that they were. Diffusion of the context was paramount to belief systems tied to patience and patented presages; ropes wiled their way, as sure as azure trains a reddening gaze to pick off one pronghorn at a time. Sly grins were ill omens, however. I mean, all this talk of what boded and bedded for the symbols one was supposed to read as bread for pages apes and sour beer evenings on capillary repose. An ontological patter had beadier cilia to rampart the haze, as all was well stated and rephrased in the tomes of grievers and milk-sow, rapacious in its dance of a thousand hairy nails clasping and groping the floor. But discourtesies had their way, too: shore leaf, braided dung, cat-or-wall, an affront to the pop, and frontage expending the sense of opting for a hope sloped rearing. All rendered with the fulsome talk, and buttered with icons, the crest fell in convulsions of lisp and hay.