It Doesn't.

Kneel or wobble, invest or digress, it’s getting and it’s taking, the flame or the filament, it’s the hobble and snatch, mistaken flies growing blind with conviction, expecting the sheen, misplacing the glower, swapping judgments, blow for mind-blowing blow, following the towering steam, swearing what must shine fails to console or budge the snow, showering vicious gravel flumes of sludge, powering through the grudge, greeting the confession stained stand, a blurred shrug generation, greedy profession, leveled at the alpha, shunned by the glaze, sparkle and spackle, hesitate to jump with speed over the seedy gape of remarkable frost, negotiate a grasp on the iced  hump, exasperated by the stark shape of the game, they grant the early thump, stump, glide, with only shame at stake, the cost collects in the lapse of synapse, a waning stride grunting, gorge, implant, can't shove and maintain grit, the veiled barge gift hovers, chided, it juts and spits a blunt lunch into the deep glow, a farce, a cover, admit it’s just a juggling test and quit giving light on the sentiment that a grinding benediction gleams humility...