This is a poem even though it looks likes prose...
Zen’s starry somnambulism and subconscious perceptions while on a neophron and being chased by rail-road accident confreres with wicked palpitations and shouting: is this our heart stricken with terror and fatigue?
Hysteria distracted her with shipwreck visions and negative hallucinations of dissociated obscurity concomitant to her synthesized ego and paradoxical character consciousness with sensory impressions of no church quiet on top of the hill and mysterious hidden self, antithesis to the fundamental inhibition: shore leave: no friends of similar disposition, outlook and higher cognitive processes or artefacts of multi personality in the behavioural movement.
Introspections of dialectic seminal euphoria over-took her then with sensations of physiological excitement,
pervasive vagaries,
executive attributes,
conceptual paradigms,
interchangeable phenomena,
conspicuous temperance indignation,
emergency irreconcilable substructure of impulsions,
internal obsessions,
prodigious aboulia,
indulgence of gargantuan appetite and plebeian vulgarities.
Eventually, Zen found a welcome West Indian island called Martinique overlooked by Pleiades where she dreamed of Queen Boudicca’s boudoir and collocated her demesne drinking from a demitasse, muddled up to the neck with problems not interchangeable with anything she ever knew before.
So she went to Babcock and Wilcox ltd of London and Glasgow for help, but was filled with seditious mountainous screams. That’s when she had her first outpouring. She became famous for them and went on to say many more things like this...
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