The scent of her reached Loplop first. Read her lines perfectly...

He watched her time fall to the seasons, then decided suddenly against it. He vowed to desire the smell of forever once she had opened up to him completely, revealed more of the night's wonders. The stars didn't feel much like speaking through the smoke which had formed between the breath of her words, the pallid sonata circumvented each and every time.

Islands were here now, wandering absently around Loplop's master bedroom. Their claws unfurled at a glance, sang light at the question collpsed between her legs.

Her ambition was naked for all to see
Not that she cared much
A walking presence the transgression
allowed to unfold
Presented her Loplop's blatant display of the invisible

The pulse of madness overtook them, threw lines into her beaded purse, to be trawled out later when missing. The space between them grew. They drank a method for acting, but it slipped away mechanically. Florid verse out of the wire glass, beside the reconstructed vestiges of decay clearly visible around her tightly clenched knees. She sank to the wind. Loplop threw his lust directly in her path.

Her passage was seventy times three
Minus a tornado
and the loving grace of God

Came straight for her, swept her mind across the floor
The kiss was an elegy
It made blood flow down her back

Loplop, sensing that the reading was over, hurriedly picked up the deck. Divinity flashed in his eyes as he bowed, alloted the sand a taste, a lapsed performance he found in a secret manuscrpit rescued from the past. His leg glanced by a jutting curve in her scroll powers. He awoke, his blackness bitten through with the timeless riddle the dream kept repeating endlessly to him. Feeling he deserved something for his trouble, he slipped the veil from her soul, taking extra time to savor the piano in her loins. The camera bolted, a flaming presence faltering at the mere thought of the music tracking his heart.

Somehow time did not occur between them
Dropped a name into her decency
glided off the strings in her veins

Loplop felt the stirrings plant themselves into his mouth. Loplop wasted its breath on him now, though. An improvisation involving light, the nuclear bath of a million surrounded the crime, as well as his hope. He swathed himself directly, andleft no directions smeared on the grime. Her perfume came undone, altered his secondary glances toward her irrevocably. Liquid exploitation unhinged the evil that dared dance on the soil required for quick access. Following Loplop's authoritative tone, the lips quivered before making a dash for their finale.

She bridged the beginning, clambered like a wound onto Loplop's lap. The conversation was clearly over, so he piled the holes in her skin into the top drawer, an infinite heat tolerant of the wheel. The tire blew, making a diagonal sound, silence forgetting to pick up the beat. His duty done, she slowly moved her languid gaze over his entire mythology, excoriating his desperate need for communion, a sacred pass.

The millennium melted them, carved defiance and civilized poison into their last attempt. Plasma fell from the nooks and crannies that raced by, robbing them of their shadows. Loplop felt it was now safe to resume ripping at the sun's eyes. She resumed her post guarding the flowers of Eden, the wonders of exclusion.

Metal searched for them on the roof
In the streets the moon tried to sleep
scrawled the legend of now on the sky
The quantum dissected the trellis, slid along her shins. Loplop seized the opportunity and stretched his tears to their breaking point, hoping to abolish dialectics and grand narratives for once and forever. A coin fell from his bitter and fetid psyche, danced along the edges of the carpet of the landing-strip before alighting on the frost of the window. Amusement soaked from her lips, while Loplop busily fingered nothing.

Studying the graceful lines of her shoulders, unencumbered now by Catholic repression, Loplop shot the full load of his naked, tortured torso, then laughed as it disappeared into the television. She, mysteriously enough, cried out from the depths of sleep. An air of nebulous viral dread covered them both. At the count of nine, her river ran dry, emitted phantasms and yellow silk.

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