Frolicking and tripping and kissing promiscuous sweet handsome men inside of her supplementary brain
The bamboozled state of ramified despair, the unpardoning pain, the procedural paralysis, her debilitating bouts of crazily constant hardship
 
Seems to be that the weight of the weather has managed to wondrously work its way in again inside of her unguarded mind – causing a strenuous noise, the manoeuvrability of a significant and treacherous murmur, that magnificent whirring sound takes a prominent place, tells sordid horrific tales of its evolving own
 
This just is not in any way fair on anyone anymore… suitably qualified to struggle and stroll with her quarrelling demons by her vilified side
 
That now-natural look of dishevelled auburn hair, the purposely made-up cornered and crying atmosphere, so very near yet held mightily back
 
The stimuli scope envelopes – it is hard to be exceptional when you were born to be broken
 
Soon as the floor in her pulsating studio room apartment starts to cater at a gargantuan grasp for the largest constitutional canvas – just must singularly amount
 
Soon as to mightily amount meant everything sizeably worthwhile
 
With nothing much else happening, she leans in and slowly, gently, yearningly sips from a glass of tall and promising water
 
Watching, waiting, for the sinking pink-and-green pills which will forever fight with the sight of the shine of the morning time to make some kind of sense of itself
 
Sitting back up and rather abruptly – with her transfixed knees inexplicably trembling, juvenile mind on fierce fire again – she takes the steady reaches that she should need to meet her locomotive brush head-on electrified, downright accessible and conversing between two overentitled people
 
Yes, because inanimate objects can sometimes become wrought-iron and translucently real when the other concentrated anomaly gets to unfathomably examine the vital signs of its comatose surface…
 
Exhausted, utterly lethargic and stapled back together one piece per time the pair of them erstwhile beings, with the unquenchable help of the argumentative workings swimming pleadingly within the hard-knocking shell of her own broken and brutally bruised body, she shall somehow manage to maniacally matter to someone somewhere… with a looking glass existence
 
The quarrelling flux of seemingly never-ending nervousness met with a wrestling degree of undeniably uncontrollable hostility – that piercing, far-fetching hope for a case of initial comeuppance
 
And, suddenly, the tall, dark and handsome painting utensil which stands awkwardly underqualified, yet relentlessly determined to playfully succeed, still contemplates and certainly wishes to generously speak with her
To kindly ask its favourite master just the one such unrestricted question
 
To, please, comfortably conceive and receive this conscientious gift given to her, and to inevitably, invitingly, create an unmatched masterpiece to outshine all of the others of the underqualified artists the world over, who have been creatively failing at their own game of worshipping their easel only it fails to worship them right back
 
Cracked disenfranchising mirrors placed deliriously in front of the fallen faces of these inferior and seriously unchosen individuals 
 
When to simply create simplicity is the farthest thing which sails agonisingly away from the begging strength of her malnourished imagination
 
Commonplace crashing, surely it has all along whispered and completely wanted, absolutely needed for her galivanting hands to caress its silhouette shape, all while her fly-by-night smile continues to slip mysteriously away
 
From the makings of her disingenuous face to another reimbursing neighbourhood wherein the erratically incalculable artist breathes sweet unofficial delirium
And it feels like the hottest summer’s day with all of the hottest afterthoughts in the whole of the wide-eyed world about to extracurricularly arise and meet her by the balanced middle again