The Future Memory of Polarized Bastions.

 

Over time, the roots of our insolence were absorbed; branch, feeder and may-bed, to the limiteurs whose set-points keep all to a willing advance. Of a book, we are designed to run in a blanked plantern, a screened vowel to escape a daily powered, if somewhat red, whoring fiber. But with the one inside the name we keep positioned, every assurance being given, one pilfered joinder at an incline: the roll you pierce is the only stamp to grim your picture in our salted, unique overflow. We will bait your carmelized nook with fancy lateral skid-parks. This will show any of our inspectors if your seriousness can be trusted. Our good night is never above your scope for passive altercations. A stumble can be assumed. The one voice you won't hear is that of our assumed decliner. This will allow your sheild to be heated through a basic glow. That's what gives it a vanishing module. And keeps us famished. What now?

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When the barest exhalation is countered by a noonday's opulent pull, will this give our sourest mirage a disk upon which to sally? You won't find us any sorrier that the intent was freed from our instrumental usage bargain. If anyone loves your locus of ambits, it's 

the one whose marvelous crappage is willed into the prestigious pavilions of our Nation's Security Retards. Where our donors ever received their well-sourced tinkling idols, is not a question to usurp our gambits into a rapturous icy fog. But if ever we decide to re-do our marked traditional bridges, then, if even the Bishop's daughter displays a proximity to endemic salt, we will proceed to give her a branch upon which to mark the sanitor's decay, each capricious node in a rhyme of oxidized whist. It pleases us that you give planets the grift of a wife gone boldly slotted. They will tree her if we die. I will release my only medallion in this affair. The date will be July 29, 2031. No one will ask if you've given up. Our batch of keepsakes is prepared for selection. All that remains is for you to tidy up and be still. It won't hurt. Promise.

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