Inked red ribbons

Catching claustrophobic tendencies and she’s been etching her olden-day sketching’s all over again

A pretty, pretty tuppence-d penny for your eagerly aware thoughts and she’d really ought to own your whole wide world of imagination right about now

Herein she mistakenly sits, a misshapen mess – elsewhere she is nothing but for homegrown pontificated to be miserly, when really, she is anything other than that…

Mad-hatter at being decidedly, deceptively, deliciously otherworldly
She walks with the moon and the sidled stars here we all are

Her inner-piece – peaced – monologue breathes alongside each one of us

Once again terrifically unknowing people as to exactly where she might stand – hand upon her stop/start heart

When she speaks it is with a comfortable, comforting, meandering crack near the left and right side of these shadow-cast aforementioned ventricles.

Had to, had to, had to start someplace seriously special at being vividly real – soon as headstrong speculation sedates her reality, whilst this natural born fiction finally steals to feed her inner reach… …

She is a hiding diamond, whilst the rest of us fall away to next-to-nothing but for shit-out-of-luck gold dust.

She is the one-eyed lady, and she is braver than a dozen of the other.

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