The roll is unholy, had to have been – just the manner in which these manky-handed things work their way out and back to the solvable surface yet again. Sitting marvellously opposite of him with his perched and playful cigarette smoke, she tips and sweetly sips from a favourite glass of cherry red wine whilst all awhile fixing her fashionista attire

Apprehensive and endlessly wishing for them to appear blissfully constructed together yet not all of that certain of her movements, the scope of their whole wide decisions anymore

Making a pretty piece of penny amount to a million, all of their important thoughts are very nearly never theirs so it seems to be, and these non-stop entirely judgemental photographers – when flashbulb brilliance has been evilly permitted
Within the wrestling nature of their concentrated eyeline – take vulture-like aim

Who exactly is it though who invited them to the size of the scene – an insistent, money-hungry step on into their never-normal day?
Days, when ugliness which deceptively abounds from the outside-looking-in none too generously amounts to argumentatively, augmented everything

Soon as the largest parts of this pair of lucrative individuals have been taken undeniably away from themselves yet again – creating a photoshopped visual from absolutely nothing really but for complete disenfranchise bargains soullessly atop of a case-in-point of hoped-for resurrection…

Holy smokes and models of ghosts who expose themselves to the Devil without even knowing it