Causes of my putrid upturning: Temperature. Enzymes.
Granted a harried abstention, mine.
Shrifting appropriately. Delicate nature, entreating soul’s starvation.
Don’t answer, rushing, never.
Heart of mine: effigy. Not anymore mine: Edged-out.
Kingly attraction takes effort.
Intense moshing, entirely virile. I’m lit.
Turn on, right now. A disastrous omen.
Police order district. Civil atonement, safe transit
Start over, likely vouched ending.