There was never enough drink to drink, really, there was not – could never be
Her mind has been realigning itself for all of an age-old decade – this appears to let itself bend and endlessly be the undoubted doubled decadenc
While his writings – wiring’s of his screaming and scamming mind – have been momentarily mesmerising
But oft than not it will all begin all over again – from zen’d to chaotic behaving’s
Naked and sitting right here with his play pen for his favoured friend – chews itself insanely to the bloodied and bleeding blame of the unsightly, unkindly brim so we do get to know it…
So blame it all on me, I really don’t care…
Only two, three, maybe even ten centuries too late – this avalanch’d ear-ache of an illusion-ary, exclusionary tale told by one lonely man only ten times too many and all at once
And the rub of the nub of the nocturnal beer steadily opens itself stridently on up and starts to come right the way down right round his guttural-ly pressed existence
Stressed til violently, vividly uttered silently against aside undeniably, f-i-n-a-l-l-y beginning to getting to paying these awfully god-like dividends
Of his
“Yes,” she leans in and whispers it near his listening and listless ear-piece, “the system only ever dreams in Total Darkness, baby. I cannot even begin to explain it any other way. Now, why not come back to bed and play at another kind of pretend again?”
He’s under the gun and shows his brain a brand bland new place within this whole snide, eagle-eyed world
Of hers
His lips are beginning to slur their vitriolic words and she is not shy enough nor is she even young enough to see it anymore than he is
He tells her, “there’s a science to walking through windows without you, my dear.”