House Of Avenues (Episode Twenty-Two)

< And if we did a blessed shrapnel of our direct godhead on the first version of doses now my skilled promotion Metatropolis has loved to the native Karma levels of ontological resins the notch of our πrate radio D.J. Kid.Dream got his slang slinger unbotched with smattering yaps he sanctifies the waveband the soundNOW taken with curious flotsam brought to such a referendum...... I haven't tried her ventilating but she could've gone front piked and proficient in all ways of kick-ass, she told me I couldn't reach the black nebula the breach of HOW and then she did her follicles flash dubious we get on never conglomerate if I'm gonna GO we let the Slip/Stream do its warp leveling up to 8-D awareness ourselfs got into this continuum the controls set for the bright sunspots we forge no speech impediments during reification our New/Word pace pays the highbeats we do 'em either/either cuz how we upspeed on the deck for location cuz the Psi-Band radio Kid.Dream boosts his raider screening that trixster mix got rubba until the upper/time emission to make a singular capsule swivels the octextural oblong sluices going faster than our own dispatches on the outer Aetherverse currently cited at the big continuum and now we locate at our current arrival in fringe of the porous betweens the hype/texts and sorting our distinctual bandwidths from vibratory MemeBombs if we don't make 'em distract us but NOW our manifest will begin if our Time/emiT from our centrification of locality that we got loosed up in our NeverAlwaysEverAny lapsed in succinct possession I do my professional. >
Cecil Debord: ~How the above goes on like ourselfs how this beyond will do.~
DukeOfLords: ~And if we located at 8/times our source it could crystallize. This vernacular only can get spoken and look how we think ourselfs from this perception how we go in The Betweens now and the fornicating plastique future activity in limitless light or the abrupt larynxes sound thrumbled.~
Cecil: ~If their communications examined from certain ontological predispositions we've interpreted by this oncoming sense of irrefutable Empirical Data of our new perverse stream and the imminent incendiaries that we can resource and cavalcade on a gratuitous POW!¡~
Ponging flipbeats on generatorVOX talks the viral radius calculated for MaximumWatts. DukeOfLords gets to set a single reflex on the pistol she whipped so the modular regulation gets to plug in, not to mention the luminous scalp of Dante jumpstarting the next NewWave and they could dismiss any combination building on the occult up through the LogoSphere seeing the supernal equations of symmetries each receptive awareness a word suited for current situations finding the corruption a write cerebralism that they conflict and take now each aptitude dribbling like digital gossamer each power to do gets supplanted but the shields hold and now they do the get-up, the round rapture of happenstance. < Picking up augmentations and their origami speech on the circuit bends we rigged and our encounters come out/tuned....They even made up all the past as they went along. >
MasterOfFaces: ~That collapse, if it reaches the exact summations of development just outside the significant time/line they can pretty much overrun the structure but if they don't engage the drift then it may have to pass on which could get them splintered.~
They go to Blixxxed topspeeds they go cataclysmic they want VOID into the lilting territories located in The Outer-If, they don't see a time they don't rescind the vocation on PrimeMobileAction the gallant chariot of spokes and angles the blistery drops and harrowing limbus culling out for Resh Shin Bone and aim the Ayin into Psi-Gnostix strata threshing the lithesome aberrations not overly disposed to the temporal dispensations find themselves unidentified with previous memories they have their mix a coalition of verbatims, the consolidated vigor of the BlissVirus dreaming its own fugue that replicates the articulated. A choral distillation plotted unindividualized frolix on the tide of the last vestige of gone will act upon The Entropic and sing whalesongs.
Dante: ~not devoid may have qlippotix enmities the corrosive and mincing minions whose laughter haunts gauntly adjacent from The Unpronounceable Precincts. Perhaps we can take the swerve hit event horizon receive our activities once the HaloGenetic gets memories.~

(Cecil (a) brings (face) back. (in the crowd))
In this courtyard of pliant stones protesting noise kids palm trees the smooth molded chairs rotoscoped where they sabotage and played their time ago when the lamp lights led along emulating the efficient amount formulated in the miserly shadows from the off-street markets engorging the frivolous behavior and lapels of sutured faces they did it on the sidewalk sales. Pipes and humid neon from the abscessed psyche and the equipped Grrls & Boyz trigger happy brimming and shrugging with the piss of feral armies.
< how could we have gotten so much? >
She wakes, highlighted by the sunset dabbed courteously with streets and hollers out of the area the way it looks from here how they could stress into lives how she shows down on the concrete chose how to her discretion but they went the mile now painting dressers unrehearsed he helps in the fix and maintains contact bubbling their way after-hours highballing that king-stunned rivals their sure bet on the grapevine < we have our best, our definitive hunch. > That time about her eyes, clear as Christ told him she did about this...< The first rad story I ever wrote and set upon this reckless fiction what else could I have been in for? I hit the trains what else did I supposed to mention? Did you lose me some one better to have cost you to have lost and look at now. > If her lippy syrup glossed her puckered what else would they do in this kind, on this time? Look at them plugged and snazzy up against the wall and ready for a step in the right distraction to attract a risk or perhaps they get new sizes in store together they bounce on coastal pony rides beer butter and lights shredding the beachy wind and chorals of jarring eccentrics, feisty acrobats concentric music box plinks overlapping the stages dark orange tint that hangs presently like old film and the tame snaggle on the Merry-Go-Round Tiger. Golde Lame´ whooty whistles of clucking automatons they hold hands memorizing the tiny folds of skin the feckless pupils the minuscule scar just above the lip or, that single broken blood vessel. They notice indignant crows and spoke uncommon entries with the hook of two pinkies in the cherry red of beach head carnivals or the frying smells coming from a mottled kitchen and rasta birdhouses flumping her riddims bad ass how blasted they got forgetting the crusted noodles sinking at their place on carousels blobbly music reaching up from the crowds and blunty roll ups crouched in the shardy sparkles dandelions and wheat pasted pylons. She heaps on some, hides a bottle black out, holds her fists on him she designed to make no prisoners that which inhabited her made her enable her madness and limericks. How they go off on a town this hazard. She wants to not have to tell him, to look at him and not hit the fan again, she wont get to him like that, the way she promises and never spoke a word around the sepia tint room itching for the other in the slight freon chill her pleading skirt crimson specks of watercolor the indentures she deprived the cost of living she decried angst she decried the absolute legacy, she cried Once Upon A Time, a little girl and her trees, but who looks out anymore, when no one wants to cry with you? No one wants to have the time for it. She could've had a say but no one here will do the time, no one wants to live up to the times when she seems like anyones business He juggled a spectacular lexicon and he never made this so what could possibly come over him if she had anything to say about it but it could not meet his closure, it wouldn't scrutinize. If they resort to their tempers they'll have to witness. He knows how she used to... he wishes her to wake up like he used to, and he wishes he didn't waste time like he never got to say why we miss her, he never had any chance to sway. He said too much and never really made more than enough effort, never really NEW, what his depth but maybe he could've used a little absence. When she bantered out too far nothing he did for granted anymore.
Even when she annulled the place of her enactments her droll and derelict compliments her martini routine articulating the brief arrangements that comes without condolences that appeases her gowns pressed pawned and undetermined she attends so cruelly, if he didn't have those sleepy followers those abbreviations she left out if he didn't keep himself unhinged all points aboard the bus line kissed and his with-her went up in smoke when her boarding pass called her entire chance went away with her in their rooms the yoga and holistic cigarettes she did her best and if it didn't get any obvious if it didn't start off oblivious < ...and shape our blankets at all like taking you at the cupboards... > Like when he took her at the door that night she got her coat opening presents pine needles sappy windows her plates of waxen spells and cartomancy. Downed glasses blixened they never wait, like her, when she saved that look and at the bus at that kiss again he suspected he predicted in one outcome but he gave up one last time remembering those lofts, shaded vestibules and clearing with her at the table raggled and chirpy a slumbersome drink got her riled and in the smudgy light she whispered her aspirations she just about got a sentence out in time, he liked her comfortable imitations of upholstery the tortoise shell room where the photos don't hang right he declares enough and they've stuck by for once, the conversation untitled.
Cottage porches overrun by cream colored lizards, patched cement, smell of fried food, salty tang reached the dwelling interiors. Talismans, Rosary Beads, the old spirits and dishes boiling caffeine drips she skips out of bed dancer spatters her cusps of her shoulders in that string strap offset tug on the elbow and he went forward with her better times and better judgements better elements they stood out in the venetian shadows and wilted faucets the shower curtains and her raw tights snagged his tempting fingertips lest she waste away longing for her next hour of his furbelly on her pinioned stomach on the sink, its metallic scent the scrub catches dull glimpses and he always remembers the coily silhouette and the greasy aura of bulbs wiped across the floor, and her toes, cold and jumpy on the tiles they thought their scenario. She wanted him to mean what he did what she could with scarvey drapes he admires her Yoga in the full length, her inhale passes and he watches the notch at the base of her neck and sweep of hair away and slender rib cage. He swears hiselfs he never asked he takes himselfs to her he never got the hang of those kinds of mornings, he never got the incident right. < ...this could not be the household... > He hasn't let on, and wishes his and waits a day when they actually get to, and he hopes she has been, and she wont be able to absorb his atrocious garments in the spooning hum of the air conditioner, she writes a song in her dream about turn of the century ghost boys accompany on accordion she had a knack for bringing back songs from the dead.
He wanted her in the heaps of blocks and the swelt of their room she wanted the express sympathy he expensed her. He had even tried to when she addresses him with poignant doctrines because he never decided on his all which came at best and off target if she did her upholdable service he never realized how he encountered this, thumbing crumbs from the corner of her mouth, she wipes at his forehead and reduces to pecks on his neck and lips that way as they trot down by the muddled spotlights and gorgeous atrocities in lycra and lipstick The Wigs Of Mythical.
Once when he saw the abundant hues of her cheeks and when he wished he could take a picture, he'd sometimes kiss her forehead when she slept. He liked the way for her and how she never seemed off he may see if she never lets away, gives chase to her roadways. He rascals from his pubs and Cafes charmed increments he has something to get by on, he knows the laws of the land and all the lay outs in between, he got his lozenge minted watch this untamed on the terraces deranged on this new constituent...her appetites went awry.
She dallies perking on her tip-toes and a crook of a smile, ready to welcome her he pours her cup greeting and opens the world she steadies her day starts on the way, planting her themes among her mindful needs she eyes him expectantly as he scoffs into his toast he may have been awarded her evaluation intersecting along trying to make a living trying to live in full view of these old fashioned awnings and handbills dutched out. She protrudes and contracts as best she could she held herself naturally, but everything concedes to change and everything she gave he may have succeeded but it made up for him, gave him a healthy discourse he didn't come comfortable in the square feet of tension a calico looming for its prowl, and that small touch at her elbow he remembers she makes dolmas a look of small agitation at the grape leaves she counters with spices and fish. It would be hard to remember that part it would drop out of existence, and every time he would collect a sudden bouquet he managed to accumulate the right colors.
He would examine the rumors and requirements he developed for her and never felt himself the right to live up to it and she knew it all along, but wanted to, eventually. He could have been more immediate he has stride and what she saw him capable without any content went for it because she so effortlessly believed in what they could do. He knew the dissonance between intimacy the room ripens in moods the emaciated neighborhood, coffees, the juvenile parks swinging with vice and dares the upsetters riddim VRROOM turn away time from her appointment view she sketches her felt tip, knees tucked, the patch of sun at her temple and the way she wanted... the way he addressed and then they would, in the evening as the train CHUFFED at the poison ivy and backyard dogs, they would at the foot of the door basking in the dingy yellow twilight with their efforts to elope always in the WAY hours they flaunted their effects.
He never made up for his achievement how she understood him in that terminal and he never made a word out of it, the aspects they chose from, that come to our attention < you became so fine at the detail, how could I appreciate that expense when sometimes we got each other too caught up on books, and sometimes we would. > On the touching glow of crowds they put each other up to it when they drunk enough to begin their severity, he likes her notes especially immortal, the seared songs she calls while plucking cards set into Celtic Crosses dancing the way she reveals his everywhere, they grab closer and closer and how long days will elicit that they belong and have loved and ruptured with such convictions scouring the skid wine heavy with their conjunction.