What if we’d done the dastardly and unkindly asked / to blatantly BLOODHOUND bask in inordinate levels of confiscated bliss? She’s
Telling tales to the ins and outs of these dodder-faced brains And bleeding at the barking RAD SEAMS/seems, and if we really cannot control the ExPloSiVe EmoTioNs then we might as well
Manage at —- the oblivious things which make felt-tip pens sing. When we touch everything… . And striiiiiing it BACKtogether like a beeswaX masterpiece in masterfully designed awareness, plEASE! They’ve literally bled with thunder inside of their hopscotching minds and made
The turn-of-phrase end its own way… “anyWAY.” What’s the time on the MAYBE-WE-SHOULD-GO-HOME alarm-clock of a maladjusted masterpiece but for THESE… belAtedlY bleeding TiCk-TiCk-ToCk intricate LITTLE idiosyncrasies. “Let them feel
The way we —— momentarily {attempt to} mesmerise besotted minds: one second at a tIMe.”
