This young woman will place her feet right by the floor, ignore anything but for
These monkey-about-the-neck drugs which choke her natural born everything – she speaks every other slurred minute to account for these perilous whereabouts, a juiced needle carries with it nothing but agonised, paralysed moments from the outside frowning on in
Then there just has to be the insular ability it does tend to taking to lavishly plying atop of her beautiful being, to not know of its truly addictive force of nature is to have never ever experienced what’s utmost derivatively juxtaposed more than most – more than everything else in this whole desperately catered for world of ours
People fell away so soon as her face did the same, all of these happenings extremely paralleled and stitched to her outrageous behaviour – she grabbed, tagged then tugged herself to unnaturally unravel
She will hit that arm with that needle and roll the bones of her eyes to the heavenly core – Hell’s door only a trip away and stood all too tempestuously ajar at that, about to mar her family’s already petrified existence
‘Til the funeral comes right round – stories compound the absolute alarming loss on one world’s saddened aside altogether anticipatory behalf
The last time I spoke to her I laughed so damn hard I shall take it to the grave of my own accord – it has to be her piercingly eerie words that hurt us the most