The dying sun, colliding with the killing horizon, sets the scene. A mechanical freeze-frame device, mounted at the apex of the Brain-Sun Court-Coliseum takes a snapshot of the hexadecimal photon diffraction. An electro-static, Aurora Borealis event ensues with viridian plasma chips flung skyward. It's visually pulchritudinous.
Beginnings: the breaking glass sounds of ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ resonate in tune to the antidisestablishmentarianism of the court, dispelling the unusual beauty of nature's fomentation. The fusion-parallax universe of conformity, reigns supreme here. The insignificant minds dissolve; acquiesce to the might of the multitude. Manifestations ofthought-fumes, scattered by the strong nuclear force originating from the gelatinous sulci and gyri of the cerebrum, work in His favor -- He, the god that failed.
Queen Envy invokes the conduct-biopsy of Prince Reginald. Will it be 69-sublime, divine castigation for the hellion? The mood is deep mauve. The ambient milieu of unrest ejected from the sun, envelopes what is, into an aeon-augmented pope-head bipartisan statement. Polemic, controversial, civil relapse collapses into the blackbox of the bellicose chain-violating brain. He whelps, "help!" Only deaf ears feign listening, making better as echo-receptacles than input-propagation feedback responders.
He is admonished and left in embarrassment, the sheen on his cheeks glows ripe like the spring plum. However, recant, he can't. His pitiful elocution would smell of heretic hearsay. His verbal lexicon, once as potent as neuron-thunderstorms, fails him as it is reduced to scattered chatter. The chosen scion could be banished into the blinking blind-eyed hurricane of Trion.
Sentence should be issued.
Were the brain-sun finally to explode, it would do so with zero remorse for the young God. But imperial judgment has been deferred. He must have come from the corner of somewhere. Yes, His birth began from no end: a brain-sun nightmare that, like dreams, lacks origin.
However, he is blown along by the acerbic breath of Queen Mother Judge- Jury-Executioner as autumn foliage. After all, he does deserve merit for his sacred existence. And so, his ultimate outcome is put on ice. Meanwhile, the thermonuclear space-bunnies of his belly are consumed by the ultra-saturated dark matter of night as the day for the Brain-Sun reaches its terminal point.
Beginnings: the breaking glass sounds of ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ resonate in tune to the antidisestablishmentarianism of the court, dispelling the unusual beauty of nature's fomentation. The fusion-parallax universe of conformity, reigns supreme here. The insignificant minds dissolve; acquiesce to the might of the multitude. Manifestations ofthought-fumes, scattered by the strong nuclear force originating from the gelatinous sulci and gyri of the cerebrum, work in His favor -- He, the god that failed.
Queen Envy invokes the conduct-biopsy of Prince Reginald. Will it be 69-sublime, divine castigation for the hellion? The mood is deep mauve. The ambient milieu of unrest ejected from the sun, envelopes what is, into an aeon-augmented pope-head bipartisan statement. Polemic, controversial, civil relapse collapses into the blackbox of the bellicose chain-violating brain. He whelps, "help!" Only deaf ears feign listening, making better as echo-receptacles than input-propagation feedback responders.
He is admonished and left in embarrassment, the sheen on his cheeks glows ripe like the spring plum. However, recant, he can't. His pitiful elocution would smell of heretic hearsay. His verbal lexicon, once as potent as neuron-thunderstorms, fails him as it is reduced to scattered chatter. The chosen scion could be banished into the blinking blind-eyed hurricane of Trion.
Sentence should be issued.
Were the brain-sun finally to explode, it would do so with zero remorse for the young God. But imperial judgment has been deferred. He must have come from the corner of somewhere. Yes, His birth began from no end: a brain-sun nightmare that, like dreams, lacks origin.
However, he is blown along by the acerbic breath of Queen Mother Judge- Jury-Executioner as autumn foliage. After all, he does deserve merit for his sacred existence. And so, his ultimate outcome is put on ice. Meanwhile, the thermonuclear space-bunnies of his belly are consumed by the ultra-saturated dark matter of night as the day for the Brain-Sun reaches its terminal point.
No comments:
Post a Comment