Last seen on 00:27 a.m. I checked the WhatsApp window for one final time to encash my exasperation
and then disdainfully pressed the lock screen to ward off my twitchiness. Her latest voice message was a cayenne pepper stuff which reduced my appetite for her affection. I reclined my spine on the wing chair which was dampened with nauseous hidrosis. To my chagrin, I mulled over those hair brained futile descriptions of her earlier notes that inflected into bugged critters. An ignis of insinuation appeared over a marsh of peevishness. A ridiculous orthogonal defined the two vectors of indulgence and indifference. I plugged in my pre defined premise of premonition and got immersed in its inchoate intimidation. The colour theme of the kindle that was residing in the credenza was changed into dark mode which was a metonymy. The minimal glare of the desk lamp seemed to be a raising agent to my presently photophobiac self. I lunged myself forward towards the deck table to base my porn cerebrations on a blank template as I waited for the inevitable foreplay of silence and the handjob of trauma to assist me. The ribbit of frogs, stridulating of crickets, the luciferin of fireflies and the corybantic hooting of owls were alkaline cocoa solids which imparted flavour in my smoking hot acidic caffeine. The passive paranoia shrunk my oversized pages of precision. I caught a glimpse of the semi nude bed which was sedimented by semen of saturninity. I harked on the pristine past that never existed.
Her pizzazz was an add on to her diagnostic features which I gleaned from her toolkit. Her oomph left me droid. I was incinerated by her springy ringlets and manicured eyebrows. The studs on her lobekins bootstrapped my libido.
X: “Heya! May I adjust the margins.”
Y: “Of course, but make sure you don’t wrap the text.”
X: “No I will just adjust the margins.”
She and I formed a recipe of a truffle from passion of praline and gluttony of ganache emulsifying into a moist base of hazelnut like hobnob which turbocharged into a flimsy fling for which we auto saved the changes. The smelting of structured snippets copulated into a sibilant sycamore.
Her luscious lips had no semantics. Her vague smile of translucence reflected her ambiguous love to which I signed in. Her formal daring had an ineffable tinge of strangeness which I found profoundly enchanting. Her voice was a frost mint lozenge which calibrated my mood. Her odd hour calls did not assume runaway proportions and our coming together was a slow ballad which demarcated a controlled perimeter. I kept my passion away from ignition so as to keep the aspect ratio intact. I offered her to show articles in a simplified view, when supported. A chinook of prurient unicodes cut my concupiscence like a hot knife through molten butter. But I kept the fire in my belly away from ignition so as to keep the aspect ratio oriented. She was gnomic idiom. Her penumbral presence as a hobbit sodomized my sigmoid flexure. The rush hour of late night lasciviousness opened a whole new can of worms which invited a litany of troubles more than we had bargained for.
The hoopla of a Whorl
Stamen: “Hey! What happened? You seem to be lugubrious.”
Carpel: “Err...umm,nah! I’m a bit timorous of how I will vocalise my fretful self.”
Stamen, sensing the implicit carpel’s overwrought mood: “Tell me, did the calyx not cover the corolla properly?”
Carpel: No, it’s the stigma have trapped the pollen.”
I sussed, I navigated through the task panes of vivid fuchsia without caring for the onyx. Her grouchy paroxysms rolled over my maligned conjectures.
Yellow Circle with an Exclamation Mark
I dragged the slider to read the texture of tessellation comfortably, I found only a series of cascading circles. I considered her to be the intricate design of a cat’s cradle but she turned out to be the algorithm of a Rubik’s cube. I tapped to changed the permission setting but she shared resource with existing mappings.
I looked away from the gleaming visual display after few hours of indexing with nightbots. The soft neutrals of the ergonomics of my desk, the sprawled accessories, the cracked sunmica all spoke of my mind aloud. I looked to remove cataclysmic commands from the quick access toolbar and minimise the ribbon of retrospection. The dim light of the gooseneck lamp exuded clitoral stimulation on the spades spatula. My eyes got so used to the semi darkness that the half opened door provided holotropic breathing to my amygdala. My pyrokinetic mind acted as a masseur to my thermodynamic cortex. The jeopardy of the jaded cast mangled my motives. The magma of noncieption barged into my pharynx squeezing the oesophagus with somatic pain of which pierced the valves of orifice. I devolved my convoluted thoughts to the sable surroundings and tried to focus on making perfect participles by galvanising the gravel with slough.
The Voice message
The duration of the semi passive voice packet was 2:13 which played like restrung octaves.
Soundbites: I am sorry for sending you this clip but it’s overdue. I just wanna tell you that a few things are not working between us. Our relationship is getting tricky. I’m not saying that you don’t love me but the balance between physicality and companionship is getting dispossessed. It wasn’t your mistake as we both went with the flow but the consequences can’t be aborted. It needs to be reconciled rather. The sanctity needs to be restored and it’s better for both of us to part ways and move on. Hope you understand. Take care.
Flip to Rotate
about : blank
She laid prostrated on the barren futon. The mattress was fraught with maggots. Her concave stares of grimace was a centripetal force to the creaking ceiling fan above. Greenhorn she was, the random interrogations of captcha wasn’t a good enough turing test to take over the static friction. The booming bass of burgeoning blander resided over the tranches of tessitura. She rubbernecked at the vestibule leading to the escalier devoid of banister personifying her moth eaten self. A mucid sheet of black scum floated over her inexorably which she was unable to launder. The fishy smell of the unventilated room made her more dyspnoeic. She ruminated over her living in cloud cuckoo land where fatty acids fancy were saponified by the Adonis. Like a phallic object his spartanic presence passed rhapsodies through her trachea before she was fossilised by the snagging soprano.
His glutinous intellect supplemented his dishy texture which she sorted by bit rate. The invigorating notes of his dilated veins, the instrumentals of his jawline beard ensnared her. A softness of combed cotton titillated her over enhanced stimuli. She inhaled deeply probably rationalising her classified intentions.
X: Heya! May I merge cells?
Y: “Of course, but make sure you don’t change the alignment.”
X: “No I will just concatenate the values.”
He and I encoded a deleterious dot matrix which was insidiously interleaved by clandestine carets. My convulsions congealed into an artistic disquisition by his talismanic tampons of travesty. Like a text liner he offset the impervious cellophane paper causing delusional diplopia.
His meretricious masculinity had the whine of electric chainsaw. His striated biceps was an inimical flavonoid. I made no bones to the plangent reverberations of sans serif. He eliminated the full nelson of the numbers of the hitori by shading the scourge of slazenger. His hemlyke pupils and anthracitic androgens heightened my histamine. We were at arm’s length collimating our half pied stereopsis. I ogled at his vascular bundles like an anacreontic object while he hand rubbed me like a raunchy aphrodisiac.
The chutzpah of a Picidae
Woodpecker: “Hey! What happened? You seem to be swallowed by the roost.”
Cedar: “Err...umm,nah! Your commensalism with the fungi has derogated into parasitism with the soft wood of mine.
Woodpecker drumming on the cavities with its bills: “Tell me, did the sap not attract the bugs?”
Cedar: No, the nesting site has been girdled by nympholepsy.
I felt discombobulated by the anabolism of an unallocated soubrette into vainglorious volumes of valhalla. His segue into supercilious scandal scavenged on the skeleton in the closet.
Abort Retry Ignore
A few alleles of anime occurred like ogres occluding my OR gates and testing the tenacity of truth table. The severed gypsum was creosoted by the ill fornication of the incubus. A glutted ashtray of cellulose acetate and a tingling terrazzo of loose locks carbonated my corpus of dysphoria. I could well visualise the wraith on the scissured mirror like a dry ice which will sublimate in swirling mists. The leg less grubs of gonadotropin did a dildo while I as a harlot straddled by exercising kegels and play acting crymaxing to the missionary. The clock timed at 00:11. A vinculum of variegated retrolux vignettes polarised the transverse waves of trypophobia. I placed my shuddering fingers on the stereo splitter and considering the travesty to be the transponder. I was too nonplussed by the celerity of my chimera to find myself being stuck in rut. I tried to do a demo of the transcript without being aware of the etymology. My voice did crackle a few times like rasping scrambles before it reached a point of break even when I munched out my dopey self and slaked my supine position. A dreary sermon modified the garish gerund to insidious infinitive. The vacuoles of treason fetish textures demurred the dendrites of defense. I was ring fenced by rigmarole of repentance. I tapped the voice message icon and after sliding to cancel the trills and squeaks umpteen times, I finally managed to negate my altruistic abstractions and released the repercussions of my threnody to send the soliloquy to him. Somewhere in the middle of retrieving credentials the request got timed out and like a tainted maple I tried to disable the problematic extensions of mine penitence. The bewitching bonsai of benignity was tainted by traducing termites of treachery.