They were asking themselves a funnily conclusion to all these concocted questionings, even wondering WHEN(???) OUTLOUD(!!) about/-

all the other interpreted, InterSpersed moments of instrumental intelligence. The gents and ladies-alike were causing their own sorts of TroUbLeD dElaY YeT AgAin(..) Pushing their penny-farthing(?!?!?) pens presumptively against

One another’s avidly headstrongImaginations. “Is it sensational, though, what they shall achieve

Given good ol’ time and these, Ahem… tantamountProcedures(?)”
Delirious what we’ve been to feel-and-see and barely even remember it because… …

… it. WAS. All… j-u-s-t… an utterly unique and equALLy BrUtaL Thing of
Ocd bewilder — even still: “they beHAVE as though a million PoeticInstancesRemarkablyRolledIntoOne.”

Amidst a sawn-off shotgun Playing Upon Repeat UpInside of their WaYwaRD bRaIns. She appears to have been holding hands

with a masterpiece of upside-down equilibrium, even if he feels all-of-nothing worth mentioning ever again, except to say: calm is the creator