She sees the things that no-one else can seem to see this is simply unacceptably She an’ we feel all of each next last piece of these mysteriously-laden, laid-out things so very softly sizeably … an’ then She can breath all of it in – each an’ every last blast of inexorable passion via unstoppable creation, if you stand an’ fall an’ walk the talker’s wall – balance it all.
Hump-ty Dump-ty, frumpy little lilac-coloured San Diego girl with pearl-diamante earrings bounti-fully bedraggled an’ worn til tremendously torn an’ She remains sexually tongue-tied midst laced Rosemary curls.
Then She comes back to penetrating life again an’ it will need to, need to, NEED to be sincerely sincere-most beneficially supreme an’ then something shape-shifting to b-l-e-e-d … an’ THEN they shall settle themselves down again to say that we want it all: these font-astical, magical, innumerably magnificental people carrying with-in them our kaleidoscopically inescap-able vision to
S-o-a-r… how on Earth though is She supposed to capture the gore galore!?
He is rather riotously right by the never-ending nerve-ending, it takes a swash of transatlantic ocean not to break this impending masterpiece Magnum Opus in merriment sedation, just about finally, readily, recklessly waiting … for it to spell itself the fuck out in ink-tainted writing, crying to count for everything anymore.
All of it no more an’ far than no less than a secluded stepping-stone to bolder them away an’ back to a frozen-faced place where they fail to righteously belong to themselves again … that corrupt, crack-toed ballet bombardment brigadier of theirs.
Half-awake in a sleeping empire of cordially unjustifiable white lies whilst they still let themselves get to sleeping with distasteful, disruptive, beautifully prearranged strangers who speak through fiercer-than diction/awfully angst-arisen dereliction – the strange-hold strangle-hold, yet we have to, have to, HAVE to let ourselves divulge our better lesser known literary senses some more til we start at unarguably beginning to sin til justifiably finding ourselves to ferociously s-w-i-m on i-n further enraptured midst eagle-eyed capturing.
Taste this tattered mess and still, still, STEAL an’ Love it a-l-l.
Silence is the greatest of all virtuous vultures in this heavenly messed-up world of yours …
People, he is pretty when he dresses himself in pill pink ribbons, so you know …

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