Glass leaking from a disproportionate ceiling of decaying decisions melting indecently in the air proposes a perplexing situation.

In the train of my thoughts, and the rigor of my vitality, I've come to ponder scrupulously the indwelling moments that cannot satisfy my persevering greed.

Blush; tingling knees; flapping. All signs of indecency. Needless to say, illegal activity in the concentration camps of the concentration.

Fat hope, provocative condescension. I do not know; I do not bother.