charging the fortress.

charging forth with nothing to say the post-Majorana assbarge had a major notational flutzpah at the cornered nexatrave, did we argue about the crux of the bonhomie that had irritated our interlocutors between the notoriously misgivings of the belaxoplot? or were our interior confusions a mysterious, a sufficiently strange combination that the binary echo of the fourth order was not interred within the beveled edge of the magic dream machine and did we even care: were these the sort of problems that magicians or numerologists or even those god damn clever category theoreticians have a subtle irritation because we had seen the mysterious stranger in the strange galligaskins with our own eyes and reflected that the subtle interior of her irises was written in an as yet undecipherable language that we had no means of translating with our pitiable resources and limited understanding of language in general: oh we were sudden outpourings of woe and misbegotten mudworship because the secondary preparations that we had undertaken were unclever by a half and demanded constant and annoying secondary checks and shekel-free interrogatories delivered by pigeon on the basis of misheard rumors and lemons to pastry, oh have a care and see to it that the nimbulocumb does not stratosphere with the blevveng, make the moxie and the movie from various dithyrambs of celluloid carnivory, for a bleating bee makes a mockery of the cat, out of the bag, prostrate, prostate, proreflective and anal-retentive, awaiting a wadi, a sand dune, an artist, from the chaotic nexus of all slow time to the fast interior of the fusion core did the major mechanical reflect in its erbium coated eyes how many monoliths does it take to surprise us had we seen what we dream did we know that it would snow how many candles did the roger dandle and the hurry with which the slurry left its flurry echoes the reflection subtension did the stent rather random matrix catalogue engine cream, or were we the noxious effluvia that hardened in fear of the metallic apocalypthexis, for our misericordia prolapsed against the inion of the occidental misoxygenated oxidization of the transirritatingly absurd market-cap.