They’ve dwindled down the stop-start time (again) and managed to mere-and-eagerly — penetrate the surface of a sugarcoated ABOUT-TO-BE deSigN: “she’s inebriated-SLASH-asking a few too many answers of himself actually.”
There’s this ultimately upsetting state of tactile awareness happening and she’s —— ill-prepared, INDEED, to be the Bee’s Knees, “plEASE!” We’ve
Taken all of the rounds-of-SUFFOCATING-slaughter inside of our HOSTILIZED minds ENOUGH TIMES (now) that we can surely-BOTH-NONE-TOO-PURELY imagine: “a CONfiscated mind and all that it stILL can FINd.” There were
Aforementioned examples of impersonating an utterly-both-SUBstantially inebriated brain. Oh, but for the delicate levels of
AforeSAID PENetrating pain. And how they did a DaNce At (the craic of) dAwN anyway… … AND LIKE NONE OF THEIR beeswax, actually
