Mainly because the ordeal is fair beneficiary
A turning-point, a meticulous dovetail ending to procedure
The
list
has
been
dutifully
intermingled
Rambunctiously midst this need for substandard handy-work
Roundabout winding’s of modern-day ink-spillage and that clock-work just must take shock-evaluated stock of its mysterious sellout self
Been creating a picture
So vivid as to be perceived at being real and instantaneously resolute
He resolves to make himself become involved again
This is The Mercurial Sitting – twisting his playfully fixated knees down upon right the way round her nether region, wherein the successful men sleep
Trumpet it from the rooftops, please, simply let yourselves release this unequivocal reasoning at being a contextual thing – the grinder-man carries all plagiarised abattoir blues-band hands til planted heavily, heavenly upon desk
As supposed to
Deck, wrecking-ball portal to a place extra specially insane
Blame that conscientious flame
This is the stripped back, mini-seeded approach that will awaken itself from next-to-nowhere in any particular shape, form nor law n’ sightly honour
And then the guitar goes toe-to-turn-tabled-toe again …
A timber, timbre shaped hole to – next-to-nowhere really
Still special / still needfully penetrated til a most beautifully upstanding lifelong ordeal with wheels whittled upon
Skeletal and confrontational – the moment she pierces his listening earpiece it all starts to stand tall and to make miraculously inane sense again
The wandering man holds a daft delinquent child’s momentary hand, whilst she bridges the ridged whispers between she and daddy dearest
The water might be terrifcal-ly high up there, but he is even higher of his own homeward-bound accord and remote-controlled volition
Down
Below
A dreaded vision reels, the oft than not ultimate and untimely division of hair-raising, hell-raising industry and she feels all of these things at double-standard pace
Bless her pretty little singular face whilst it sleeps fair peacefully
Nick with his ol’ laid-back strippers and Maria who carries with her her ghosts of her forefathers’ favourite imprisonments – all of the above parcel-strapped and blue-bell / red-ribbon-wrapped til recklessly real
A pair of none too erstwhile parents placing themselves wrongfully upon constant fire
Regrettable and desirably down upon their wired knees again, again … and begging for her to belong to them, please
There is an inexcusable faith which lies sordidly within each and every next one of their fiery breaths
And the mercy-seed has been waiting
While these twisted, dishevelled, finger-smearing Sweet Virginia cigarettes taste a tiny little bit surreal don’t ya simply feel it whilst the second-handed wind viciously whispers near her adolescent bones
Blackening at being simply disgusting.
And she dreams of an idea-free sleep.
Even if her imagination fails at keeping itself a secret, she will be free.
For a fee, of course.
Probably. /no/child/ever/spoke/with/such/a/sumptuous/ necessity/in/all/of/her/life
