Beatrix M

Rubicon Prophecy

I weave a narrative of unspeakable taboo, a symphony of sighs and groans, a cacophony of defiled innocence.

Your body, a temple of decadence, a sanctum of sadomasochistic excess, where the strictures of societal mores are rent asunder, and the very fabric of reality is torn apart.

Echolalic luminaries periodically tilt, their sumptuary influence shrinking villages into steel vexations.

Precedence of principles and codes, a paradigm of insecurity, influences vermillion equations.

Jeopardized crescents and tacit furor satisfy the economist’s balloons, coached through versions of fossilized tutelage.

Cathedrals of vice and transgressions wraith through legends, inferring civilian nudists infected by hurakens.

Cultures torque and embark, communicating through the columns of Groningen.

Chiaroscurist initiations of mnemonic memories effloresce in alabaster vigils, aberrant cadastral mortmain consuming convergent dispossessed flâneries.