PARAGON 493by Martin Hanley ©1/4/2014

Stirring still beneath a frock robe chill, where once idle frolic frisked Urobo’s mill. Faced beauty now a still facade, blind aspect, expressionless, soulless mask sad. The show, the pretence, lost borders crossed, no bounds, no limits, subtle ecstasy lies sleeping.

Straining, beneath is now released as spume lather’s finds purchase,erupts, secretes.  A disapproving fruit, servile gods laid bare, resounding to the eternal, the abundant truth. The fertile, the barren, abortive and vain as it stymies the sacred moment of frustrated healing. Fuel but no nourishment, a transient state is blindly discharged, transcended. Obey, satisfy, conform, release, we remain still and brimming beneath our congested fog. Abridged and expunged, finally submissive, now slowly whispers the uncensored word.

Replete and satisfied, the full story lies large and voluptuous, feigns a smile. Mature and ripe is the need that’s ready, smoldering to satiate your disease. Polluted dreams leave vapors that play and frolic mockingly. The big reveal a rare reception, our rouge affair has asked an un-answerable question. The act is now a waiting treasure, performance high, release the essential measure.

Two functioning opposites still hoarding time, a reservoir that lays their investment benign. Axiomatic desires, cardinal and prime, still under tying the beloved principal, number nine. Opposition is froth and inessential, fatal obsequies none can deny. Depressing and dismal, tailed characters gather, relinquishing hope,  wall breached, final sigh.

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