DIVERGENCE

Take my lies and eat them as medical intervention to your complacent predictability. I lie to control my life; you proclaim abhorrence to my life method as if in battle to an accumulated accountability. Your stumbles — weighted deferred imperial moral particulars — dry me without an instilled dispensed pretense. Your pervasive literal perspectives detour your want of my most noticed body. There is, however, a perverse preemptive hold, a form of the undefined, in the lined secessionist rigor of your immediate recourse to run from drift. As noted: my lies restore and keep a restoration policy. They spur a twist to squeeze an orchestration and include no inquisitive mix to embrace your, at most, incoherently imposed hurt as long as cohesion folds particulars presenting a supposed divergence, later recharged as a suggested “new episode,” but the continuous self-appropriation from self uncovered as an assumed anticipatory developmental affirmation to “same,” ends transcendentally to no change and yet, even you grant fastidiousness protects its own staying power as want or inability, leaving recourse hanging, preserved, not open to even insulated peeks.