There’s a poltergeist in her eyes and it appears to have been bestialising her sense of sophisticated personality, been taking her to task amidst these dilapidated bottles of overcooked Whiskey. She’s a hardHITTER, -GRAFTER and ALL of the beneath…
Steady feet? Nope, not too much anymore. As her sense of age restores itself to its former forgetful repositioning
All of the ammunition which sits, between the pen and the index finger begins to SEETHE BOTH B R E A T H E. About to privately procrastinate
Maybe even… LiNgeR ATOP
Of a cracked and cradled, whiskey-FED PAGE!
Led to believe— in fictional spontaneity
