Here one calling canvas stands – miserly and miserable at being uttermost The Alone

A constant glare fashionably states and stares right the way back at her
Actuality in sedation – an eager, worshipping individual at play-pretend faces

An acrimonious industry of evil with upsetting pearls and swirled diamond-earrings near twisted ear

All of the money in the financially upright and staunchly standing world and it makes no real sense of itself anymore

And she takes bland brand new sinking thinking-pills to thrill

The innermost pieces of her eager being – all people in-waiting have left themselves undeniably, snidely behind

And she will still feel it every single day from here on til there – sinking, thinking, and completely derivative to the drive of a strife-time

Dives on in, no less under-qualified

No venture happening, no damn adventurous gain midst problematically mundane heartstrings which sing …

Endlessly, strenuously at prey-pretend – never paid with money but rather with this never-ending artless exposure indeed

She feels a funny kind of nothing, seems she wanted to be an artist but she ended up with a writers’ bare-naked intelligence

Appears she’s reckless at being succinctly at being real, no artistic envy, please

For they carry their very own troubles turned to one side – d-i-v-i-d-e and conquer this easel tease

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