B for Bittersweet

Bittersweet, bridled by boondoggles, bound betwixt business and boundless, blithe bouts.
A struggle to bear beyond the bourgeoise, a battle benign on its covering body but beastly in its bowels; a broiling baste. A bitter batter beggining to basterdize the beauty that is my badge. Baleful to my brevity of being.

But beneveolence benifits even bemused bachelors, beclouded I may be.
I am percieved as brittle bubbles breaking in jovial bedazzlement. A basket of bright beams, bursting forth in beateous bearing.

Beryl and beryllium betake breathe, but behold. A black baroque, in speaking, a brogue as a bougainvilea vine, every word a bloom, a bracht along its length, in benediction I am belonging to the bonifide title of Brian, If a berry, bon appetit.