Feeling flows without any pull, though buttery under her eyes; we see each other as fate would have us and that is a sensible chortle from the tribal guard as contemporaneous truths adhere to each other in their free times. The dice-rolling eyes reviewing my particulars and some dilated mochas clarifying from her hair to toes in reciprocal accusations given to gods for crossing two paths in a friendly-fiery curled tongue of a treat for the constituent souls.