Septendecim

    "Adder?"

      He tried to process what Pious Poseidon had said. He didn't want to be too dismissive.

Making words from what they were and what they would be had had the best part of him.

He tried processing the pull and twists.

He couldn't really arrive at a sane conclusion despite having to take his instinct and supplying a stray idea.

His thoughts had been smog. Rather it had been damped. How could they be snake for penis in Poseidon's hood.

A part of him wanted to dare him to revealing it but the other part wouldn't him.

He had no idea which to sway to. He couldn't make meaning of anyone. But of course his inky instinct warned him to steer clear of poring doubts.

He might be pawned by the ferociousness of such. He could make a twist of it. He could hurl pain and shame, but there was more to it.

More than he could fathom. But he couldn't really be surprised. Nothing was to catch him unguarded in that figment of being.

The world of fantasy was merely just a stray of time. He knew twas close to reality but wasn't.

Or probably he was telling lanky lies, which would smother his breath, to himself again. He snapped at the recent deed.

      ​"May I show you  or should we get to business?"

      ​He actually didn't know which to go by. He had no idea which thought to sway be. He couldn't be sure what instinct to totter after.

He was just savoring the taunting aroma of the apt atmosphere. He needed to be very sane before making a decision.

If he did make a stray decision of course  twould rip off his chance and felon fate knew what that meant and what that possibly could supplant.

He wasn't in for chances. If he did tell him to reveal the penis which he had called snake he would affirm his doubt and yet when he get to earth he would write about it.

He would treasure it and croon its syllabic spell in the ears of Myclops. That sounded lovely and promising to him. He thought about the odds.

He didn't know what the odds would be. He was just an onlooker. He couldn't discern what was a lesser part of the other.

He allowed his instinct to process the second stance.

     If he did allow his omission of the show. If he did tell pious Poseidon to ignore and proceed to the next business, hmm, what would be his fate.

He knew that that was beyond his imagination. He knew that that would be beyond his judgement. He would have no say on it.

He would have no pull to prick. He did have quite the numbers of dice to toss. But he was been patient.

He was waiting for tamed time to test the marred magnanimity of rusty rage and callous call. But he was sensitive also.

His instinct birthed a clone. The truth was whether or not he had him reveal the hoisted hood, of course he would still have to proceed to the next business.

Why then take unnecessary chances? Or to say why ignore what was bound to be?. He would knuckle under what would be appropriate.

He should. That was the best idea to nurse. He wasn't sure whether or not he had nursed such pleasant idea ever.

He watched the Poseidon as he was already standing over his berth with the soft elements.

He wanted to sit up before swinging him off balance with his choice, but he maintained his stance.

      ​ "How did you clothe me without having to put my clothes on myself."

      ​Even hell knew that that was not what he was intending to say. What happened?

Was that some new alakazam? Had Poseidon played with his mental Ken.

Had he pawned his thoughts and made him say what he had ignored since like forever.

Instead of having Poseidon and making his choice from the highlighted, he only had his face to the Nymph who was being indifferent at word gala they had been tossing.

He tried to make a stray of thought. What was the Nymph up to. He thought she was supposed to had stood when pious Poseidon, her supposed master, arrived.

He didn't know what to think of again. He guessed what was better for him was never to think again. But how possible was that.

He knew he was simply musing. He couldn't bring himself to that. How would he? He could never. Poseidon had a smirk seeped in his visage.

He had never seen him wear such ever. He knew that the Poseidon was pruning some sassy spell.

He could never do anything about it. And obviously he had simply said what the Poseidon wanted him to hear.

But the Nymph was there for him.

     ​"Hiya, he told me before you arrived that he would love to see what you have for erection beneath your hood."

     ​That was the Nymph. Twas true that he wanted to see Poseidon's erection.

But the lie was telling her. He never remembered himself mentioning that to her when they were burnished in the poring pleasure of sexual conference.

What was really happening? He actually wasn't what he had thought himself to  be anymore. He was more than a pawn at that moment.

He was already a figment of being and that was obviously not working. He was simply being a die tossed.

Well, that toss was to his favor. He would make himself believe that. He did realize that Poseidon was quite displeased with the intervention of the Nymph.

But a part of him wanted to hurl haughty questions. Wasn't Poseidon supposed to detect the lanky lie the Nymph had told?

Of course she had told a lie. She did know that and he did know that as well.

Only if she simply wanted to hide under the gaberdine of ​I'm saying the damn truth. 

     ​​ "She didn't tell lie about that request of yours. You might have asked for it in your subconsciousness. Happens most times  when people are given to sex!"

     ​That was Poseidon. He quit thinking as Poseidon reached for his hood which was immediately below his abdomen and let open and loose his erection.

Ah! The pored poet would go blind. His brain could not process what his eyes was seeing. It probably was defected. He looked closer again.

Even fantasy knew that he would collapse. Fantasy was fantasized. Why wouldn't he?

Why wouldn't he collapse? That was the best option he could ever confide in. Hell!