Boingo wrote:
Potatoes
Mind-boggling, brain-shattering, of-disease-smelling fictitiously-manufactured awe-inspiring abstracted thought. Ageless stones of innumerable dementia. Breeding petrous caverns of moist dark and liquid sorrow. Entangled singularity tunneling through a mode-locked source array. Indivisible amalgam, miscarriage of bequeathing. Antediluvian deluges. Infracted refraction. Banana conveyor belt. Infarct fart. Vitiations to the crescent eye. Allure the post-Kugelblitz heathens to the carcass and plasma. What if I want to be neither overwhelmed nor underwhelmed, but just regularly whelmed? You know, just a regular, everyday little whelm. The wolves
entwickeln thy soul alongside the dwarrows. A minion, a pawn, a villein, a peasant. A ruler, a monarch, a tyrant, a king. Usurper! Emperor! Raiment of flesh and bone. Quill of aseity. Cathartic bellows of ire and iridescence. Alliterative alliteration. Metabidiminished metabolism metallizes metamorphism metalurgically. Redundancy omnipresent. Stricken and abashed, the faceless patricians of ceaseless devouring retreated to their crypts, their empty eye sockets filled with the darkness itself transfixed at the flaming torch held by the ensanguined arm of the beholding one. In their darkened shrines, no one can hear you beg. Then oceans would evaporate and bleed into space. Wherein insofar. Accursed, bewitched captive struggling in the den. Immobilized; astray. Al-Rahman, al-Rahim.
TT: I guess one could use those words to describe it.
TT: If armed with a predilection for the inapt.