She spends her days inside of my mind.

Working, her way on up again – not my type but it need not matter anymore
When she stops
and starts to recommend many a magnanimous thing
which will still play the alabaster violin strings vehemently within my crucified mind again.

She sings it oh so very fucking sweetly, though, don’tcha think?

Time does as she might wish it to do for itself – kaleidoscopic starry-eyes demise and all of this needlessly
mindful intent spelt, spent, heavenly, heavily, inner within
the inner inside.

Driving aside the mildness of the free-range country-side, baby – suck me and see
Simply another such hellbent, -sent, way
on out of h-e-r-e.

There – anywhere but backward, please.

Nothing but for bare-naked research
anymore – to die by your unsightly sting of your contrived, awe-conspiring eyes will all be
my scary little secondary privilege —- I don’t fucking care to care – such a goddamn scintillating shame, the uppercutting mild-mannered way
that you can somehow manage to make yourself s-t-a-r-e abruptly midst this strange stranglehold of fear.

A living seething very nearly breath-taking juxtaposition on acidic re-awareness.
Para-glides inside of my paralysed, decidedly inescapable
and vilified life.

It will take an ocean of h-o-p-e not to break anymore than you shall do for your sorry sullenly suggestive self again.

Tell me how not to reach you …

break. I will take it all back.

Spill your wine on top of mine and please rewind it all til you get to beginning to unwinding my silver-rabbit brass tie – goodnight, baby features.

See you on the other side where your dreams ain’t been acting so motherfucking sacrilegious anymore.

Just a naked re-positioning time and time we die by the light of these lonely secrets. Even if it wasn’t built to be this way.

Suddenly I understand, the glass is in the sand …

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