No Nilofer, we can’t be indulgent right now, voices have stranded us with meager solitudes only to watch us salivate in desperate cravings. But gravity is stronger than destiny, and we’ll find a way to reconcile this sacrosanct killings. Many years will pass; Oceans will dry, moons will breed life, but you will still be mine.
I’ve no longer conquered the vicinities of this chessboard, but I know the moves that will serve the pleasures of your wendigo dresses. It wont make it right, but history will write itself through the incident grammar of neutered synagogues. Both eyes will look for obscenities, far beyond the luscious manifestation of pheromones.
Bodily reconnaissance, a neural rendezvous. Nails and kidneys rose from jaundiced dissections, controlling our bonds of maudlin intolerance. I lied to let you go, because you didn’t yield and answer beneath this vortex. But I can ask you to follow these leads, so you can crawl your way out, into this soul.