He takes her dismantled dress and depresses its natural curvature of rightful reasoning – he solemnly sees that she has been bleeding by the multitude of bleeds, feeling all of these deceitful things

Her wedding ring remains twisted and torn atop the coffee-tainted table as its magnificent glimmer fades into promiscuous significance

Caressed her malnourished mind and long before it ever managed to make misshapen sense of its unsettled self again – the foolish and fragile child with crying-shamed time and permitted adultery by her suffocating sides

Bounces about these four lock-jawed walls of lonesome portrayal, snail pace and then… a sudden movement in wrongful moments
There is a pretty pair of them in this – scintillating skins placed hastily together and disgustingly instigated til agonisingly pressed heavily against yet, really, left all upon their adolescent own

Sleeplessly embracing – This. Is. The. Boardwalk. Empire. Of. Lies.

And it tends to be extra-special but only ever set to play itself out and at macabre and theatrical pace up inside of his handsome head – none to sober and justifiably seething, breathing ten times too many

A manky-handed puppeteer steers and stands haphazardly awry at the wheel of stringed silence

Nothing can hurt her more than when he holds a sweat-arisen palm midst her shrieking and wailing face – she can taste the nature of the monster’s final capture and it seems to feel slightly odd and all of it in a comfortably agonising way

His loins are on fire while her mind attempts to shy away from its secondary self – San Diego City has been writing her name in the rain outside, while a painfully strained and smeared window mirror attempts to find a way back home again

It’s a long walk from nowhere to somewhere… especially when you find yourself to have been but a paralysing part of the whole sullenly suggestive process, soon as the moment chooses for you to show him the whole of your inappropriate soul

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