Jesus freaks, out on the streets
In awe of her imperfect passe
 
Her ass, her face, her pointless waist not for wanting to adhere to all of the atmospheric disapproval in the whole wide world – of these sitting pretty people cradled marvellously within a commercially empathetic nutshell of their own
Problematically perfect yet poised singularly toward, ’til set noisily against what is fundamentally a sense of sickly vice-versa procedure, the reinvigorated thirsty one’s with these visceral consequences at the ready
 
Ship-shape, steady-handed, left stranded, unanimously supplanted – insanity is not a choice, it is simply an appointment with an upside-down G-o-d
 
With both his and her mind-of-many made up
Either way nonplussed, fucksake flustered near the truthful core of their hopeless sophomore beings
Brazenly interrupted, thunderstruck egos driven to unpardonable paralysis
 
When these pregnant pauses of ours turn out to mean these rather energetic things – board members, bored members, indeed… we are all of us each one of the next very same serene single simple thing
 
Up until… we breathe by the glimmering white-lies of the over-embellished silver-shredded sword
One last alignment of word –
 
And seems to be that we are all of us brought back to life by the bare-naked essentials, which have been backing themselves up against the concrete brick-walls of our abrupt endings – people, welcome, to the nerve-ending again…
 
Speaking again – these altogether lacklustre Hare fuckin’ Krishnas, these eagle-eyed layabouts carrying with them creative forethought for their favourite-best-friend
Are they really, sadly, truthfully placing a million-dozen dollops of unforeseen treasures atop of our circumstantial doorsteps – seemingly, seems to be, the Jews who knew / All Along The motherfuckin’ Watchtower we cry / there just must be some kind of way out of here
All eyes putrid-ly pardoned ’til unspeakably reprimanded… and round-and-round the merriment clock ticks-to-tock / to-taste-it-all
For the sentimentally sensational flavours stirred purposefully, poisonously, precipitously within
 
Doing us no such favours any more than the fragrantly plagiarised toast
Pressed affably toward
That half-cut glass of red rebel wine, which takes on a whole brand spanking new meaning of its own
 
Midst the adole-scent freshly French-kiss lent concentrically against – our favourite-best-predisposed-one’s. All of them hold a hidden meaning at (hand)
 
Affably, so… nose to the grindstone and the blood bleeds to
p
o
u
r
 
Yes,
she
k
n
o
w
s
 
Everything in a marvellously reconstructed nut-shell
Gathering her fall and walks with it all…
 
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band of pretty-eyed men. She’s had a busy day today, so proceed to lay her down and to eat her, pl-ease