Manhattan on upside-down waywardly precarious acidic re-awareness. If we can call the other thirsty person from deep within First Avenue and deep beneath Lenox Hill, from deeper, deeper, deeper within the Mt. Vernon Hotel, then we can breathe to think truly again. The only motherf*cker in this dilapidated city that can attempt to stare and stand me… Have I really been sitting in this ashtray with terrible distaste aside poisonous promiscuity for my new favourite best-friend!? Lose me to find thee, fine by me.
Where ever is her window to the soul, though!?
He should never have misinterpreted the power of her perfectly plagiarised dance-stance… Running away from all of the men to find herself again, or rather running away from herself to find all of the mean men who taste her deepest sins for their early-morning breakfast-time am. – midst this unspeakable shine in her crucifying eyes.