XXX

Love potions written for the glockenspiel of a subplot, garnering astrophysical forces, incalcuable in breadth at the moment of splashdown. Quagmires of the carbonated, interrupting the footloose with bubbly moments, highlighting a rain dance imploring poisons to weep from the eyes of a salty god. A valedictory dunce cap keeping the cheap seats warm for afterthoughts. Lullabies intrinsic to the bassoon, chiming in on ensembles of the still startling, but time lapsed revelations, on which museums gorge in the violet haze of evenings twinkling. The charm bracelets of an enigma, in accompaniment to the madness lilting but lost in traffic. In seeing the endless through to the beginning of time.