WIT

You cannot work on it and there are no schools on any level to aid you to understand the importance of the lack you exude and how it furthers my contempt — consistent with my discontent — a condition portending a contraction of any prowess I have to explain to you the contours you miss, but when it comes to being a bad fuck, my proffered pattern improvement fuck mechanics frames you and your imprecations.

Wit is indigenous to wit, no procedural curricular definition dilution can be applicable. It takes its own winks to wink back; it stays intact by its own rapidity, paradoxically stagnant as maintained in a cause/result one-step unit. Wit is thought-on-a-roll, a could-be-counterfeit that can validate solely by its originality, a self-contained kink want, wit, my pussy inducer, a “Wit my clit,” “Do it again” repetitive rigor. 

And yet, if witnessed it shuts replies, pinions possibilities, a ceaseless constraint that makes one supine in a designed docility framed in a geometric awe that echoes nothing — this contained heat and fear in a no chance dispatch — but the term “wit,” as found here.