azurelunatic | Freeform literary artistic wanking follows

The tradition started by

cadhla in her lovely poem sparked by random spam words must be followed.

I got a spam. I read it aloud. I feel my mind was expanded by the reading of it, but the only way to find out is to write, and see what falls out.

Lost in transitory seclusion, the state between states. One reaches it by witchcraft, salvation or not at all. Inflammation of the senses runs roughshod over tranquility, denying even the refuge of blasphemy from the incomprehensible. Intemperate seasons. I scan the boot compositor, recognizing the mirror of despots and hooligans. The heavens give blackbody attestation to my fears, the wind carries an epiphany that I am not the only pilgrim denied. Downcast to damnation, I wander in antipathy with a bowl. Aching neurology inspires me to ascend, but treachery's bureaucracy leave me faithless and fallen. I withstand it all, and bounce between bombastic and euphoric. I am led thence to skip dimensions; the volcano was autoclave, debugger for my soul.