Been laughing herself silly with a mouth full of pearls – these hidden beads of delirium
Perfectly perturbed, she saunters on in gilded in makeshift gold – electrified by brazenly vilified

Nude blue brogues
A shrinking-violet cheerleader of yesteryear, now no more, now but a rip-torn piece of shedding evil
Life-time telltale eyes – he realises she’s been endlessly crying by the knife-edged divide
Takes one step back and three steps further on into the inner-within, unknown to him
The inescapable situation pleads for a piece of his lesser evil

Jumps from one persona to another like a cosmopolitan caterpillar
Grabs a six-pack of sweet, sweet and tremendous betrayal from the pulsating shelf of misshapen dreams again
And back to the dilapidated apartment
Collecting, connecting the desirably dirt-arisen, -ridden dots with each and every next manoeuvre; help me, she screams
A puppeteer with tears near her mind and a cracked portrayal
Letting go of her body…
“Help me!! Help me!! Nothing seems the same.”

Been working with the think-ink fidgeting pen – penniless and utterly dumbfounded by time
These fabricated stories mean next to nothing, really, just walks on into another realm of fantastically enlarged creation
They may well hold her manicured hand but letting go by the end

Didn’t Aristotle say that there will be no greatness minus a mixture of madness though!?
Tippy-toes, multi-colouring nooses surrounding her noised-out sounds of a far better existence
Shallow-baster existences indeed
Colour-coding outside of her linear creation

Been beautifully bastardised like her father and his before him – a running line in complete and undesirable disaster
They both took their worshipping hands and guided it right by the wrongful reasoning

Washed up at her feet, spends the summer-time on her quivering back, pleading with these teenage men to take her back
Blue and red-white underwear, silence in the screaming, careening night – whispering right by her brand new precariously set portrayal, says that all of them will love her til time runs away with itself

Doesn’t mean to be so salacious
People lie, she leaves a signatory note pinned erstwhile upon their collegiate dorm doors – her one and only sign of sullen portraiture, she can only suppose such a vitriol thing to herself
But thing is this, her soul did the very same thing a year ago, ran away with itself

And now she sleeps with a hidden teddy bear strapped by her juvenile dreams
She still waits for the money to rain, wherein her favourite words used to be her favourite weapons
But now they have been utilising the lesser parts of her blinded mind

Back at the oyster farm inside of her adolescent mind again we go and roam carefully
Fetching deep-desirables for only ever oneself

Seems these scintillating seasons change even if she won’t begin to attempt to let them – and she asks herself for a piece of peace til she finds a piece of me… finally arrives

Dragon on fire, taking these chains from her body
She looks like the moon, she says it’s inside of my eyes and never inside of hers – “Just don’t push me out, for I’ve been paralysed by a petrifying kind.”

She risked her life making mountains out of mysterious molehills, bare-naked again and whispering from inner-within the insides of her favourite pen

Cracked but forever begging to bring all of it back and to a place of righteous belonging

Have to ask, are these sins that she seems to see really too deep?

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