All methodology & despondency have incurred to invite the cumulative wrath that has incised the brackish nascamure of this sophomoric hem. Could it have been that you could have held the calm, and released in your hand the milk fed doves? Could you have kept this secret to the forked tongue beside the solemn fire? And by this, the tender violation had succeeded to creep invariably into something worse? And so I say to you this, I want naught of these molested deformities and the insipid crack of each red flag. Those meaner vagrancies of the lioness and the Harpies wail: What came whence from the light of a Devil's storm is guaranteed to fail.
~S~