Byzantine Fantasies

Smoke curls from lips of the same nature.

Crimson cherries vanquished with brilliancy, set with diamonds, shimmer
with promise.

Glistening rubies that illuminate the twilight, radiate
magnificence.

The velvety texture of that supernatural sigh, the balmy breath of
intuition, disarm the fortifications of the proclivity of
contemplation.

Delicious asseverations of assurance dominate the individuality. Who
could repudiate such bullshit?

Me, obviously.