To be chaste is on the house.

Yoga is really charming

First done wrong, quaint, then drenched though slackened
— Janus was proud to sponsor Janus.
Book-worthy twists. Cross branding contracts.

Here’s my side, since you never asked.
The moon at this phase could be the clearest abstract debacle to date −
anagram of appraisals coalescing, a typecast

notarized in the spry travelogue almost ten years ago. You wrote
the subject headers. And the soundtrack wasn’t ugly

yet not to everyone’s taste.
As a guest or host I admit

“France is imaginary.” Those very words saved me or words like them as many times as topics, not qualities, opposing denial of healthcare, unless there’s no risk, and again, I’m full of appropriated superstitions and everything. Everything if.

I read you and people move away, making it vacant.
It’s vacant to think about high art favorably. Time for a sequel.

Take a wild guess —

It’s a classic knife-in-the-back suicide..
for a good time undressing gravity gets to be a habit but police are still baffled.
There’s efficacy speaking clearly, gesturing, knitting a brow,
just commenting for now.

Everything belongs... related thru stress.

I believe in the healing power of unhealthy options. Percussive isolation. Resentment buried in a colossal physique. Orpheus, the overspontaneous,
beats through a dinosaur theme park. Don’t care, I only lie about what I believe is right, clinging to my male sexuality

without a theory of purpose or the gift of agency to promote my case, as masking vanity becomes a fund raiser’s challenge.

Fizzy yet salient points soak into the beach hanging out for the escape clause (always the last place you look!)

Paradoxical tissue is still not perfect, having that living unlocked, scrunched for breakfast.
It dawns on me I am covered with bacon reform. That’s why I went for consensus over these flamenco-glued-to-cable partitions.
They’re in place as a lorem ipsum dolor sit
taken of the whole sector before repro-ed onward

offhand.. rather like a jigsaw
that gets unsolved.

I prefer a clean hotel.
Call a time-out a makeshift breaking point, outside boundaries of contact.
We need smarter drywall to excite ferns and moss growing
contours beeped forward.

Up, shiny, imperfect, not held in place —
Your nose looks finished beneath the stopper.

Breakfast at Starbucks and we were off wandering
headed for the B terminal,
an installation in profane solitude.

Smacked down by a coordinate from outer space,
Keanu Reeves is not reckless, iniquitous, or anatomically complex,
though monotone to the gills like a slower yet more self-subtracted Rod Serling.