1When paradise paints a predominantly mixed-up picture

 Of all gluttons for quickfire punishment
People with miserly smiles switched and intertwined till appearing all kinds of blind-sided and superficially, substantially, real
These over-zealous sonsofbitches with paramilitary eyes for cross-firing summarise, unsuspecting debutante demise
For all that we really do know it can go one of too many ways altogether
To ever get to count ourselves in again…
We sin when we are winning…
Lost cardboard cut-out versions of serendipitous little sweet-stealing kids when placed upon the broken-hearted skids
Soon as we appear to let ourselves lose a translucent piece of the other compulsive person’s playful plagiarism
Dishevelled and distantly depressed were the pair of Us – two eagle-eyed, shadow-casting, juvenile imbeciles, up until…
You walked on in inner-between
The eye of my-oh-my locomotive storm
About to poach yourself and warm to warning… the erstwhile cockles of its singular being
3Been meaning to all-out-amount
Just… that adulterous fact does tend gently toward beating the lopsided friction of case-in-point fiction