Instalment 1 (Draft) across plains musical plains, colour to line and sound-out for an end then swap 1 to across

plains, music plains all to colour-in then lie amongst in and fend or swap none across the dull sound of plain, for new plans lie to you or you to lie you for an and to an end as they co-align into a utilise full so-so to a neutered half no-no to a futile void nod-to-not to end clumsy. and sadism becomes the noun when it pricks hard against the mind, in real eyes like lightning that steer to see in-sill black-as-pitch! then un-sheaf it to slightly cold maybe slightly soiled forgiving, but in the beginning theres just the word, traipsing through please-forget-me-not, or a letter which blossoms and draws open into a cross of roads. then swap 2 to cross a plain, or use sickle to harvest muse from pain from colour through to line to end sound for an out. across plains, music plains all to colour-in then lie you to lie or why do you lie for an end to an and to use sickle to cut muse throat like music and interrupt so abrupt that fucked sigh from so-no to no-so to nod-no-not so for an end clumsy. especially when masochism begins at home when it swallows whole against the mind in real eyes like lightning which still fills around to in-stir in black as pitch! we all know that art chooses artists then, perhaps not known to them that they own no power, or prowess, just flirting from 1 to 2 indulging from 1 through to 2 through to a flirted none before sticking it to a pivot , or a please forget-me-not letter or so soiled calls of vanity must cover and shame and chime and shame to cold-sound-out and to end to end to and kiss clumsy the eyes like lightning. then swap to 3 likened to finality and colour-in with sound-out and end to red out-line with muse blood of holy-lucky trinity, 1 through to 2 through to art to eject from artist with none then kiss with passion through to 3 and blood trickles from trinity sickle as the super-conscious fades into a musical reality, especially when sadomasochism begins to feel right for control as the prick enters a whole new mind and you stare at real eyes like lightning that style to in-steal in black-as pitch! and to what end if maybe, if youve un-sheaved its slightly just soiled to slightly cold, then into silent asyla your coded lies, lying in a round ditch till you cross out vain in fullness to swear painlessness for eyes smother blind out from this you non-divine bitch!