The terms are, go settle down through the evening, finish your addenda
at gunpoint. Perhaps heartbeats get covered by a shroud that frays
and unspools to gain advantage spreading the plan.

Without license, we impart numeric dicta slathered with platitudes —
with all the conviction of a third episode —
century-old middle ground (the themeless module) where we stay sleep (wavy
fields of inaction) and continue playing around vulgar innuendo to bear being
kind, as you undress to force a smile, fully emancipating me into becoming obliged to rule you out, generously.