An organizing force under command matures into familiar splashes of
watercolorist anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) —

Meantime, ping. We’re here for discovery via inflection in lap pools of
condensed matter from excursions in the aquatic world.
The named oceans are dated, right, left
Pouting, getting better! When they come to — there will be perorations re-
framing rainwater within fairer scents rimming sunlight in suspension, ripped,

Amputated chutes!

Grape vines burst out, nonlackluster. Though I love grime, the force’s guilt-
making — carrying me thru, unphased: Guilt does this to deplete me of hope.

1st choice for a sonnet is to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce.

Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send a message I can wolf down. Convey
a sense of urgency that’s superfluous. Then put force off.