Silent sensation – under-beneath, underground

Bedraggled barman meets high-flying drug-baron : and they prepare themselves to go a.m. through p.m. – and right back round again – entertain it all til pre-cautiously enveloping the other person’s least suspecting dreams

This ‘n’ dabblin’ in that, tip ‘o’ the demonstrative hat / to a living, beating, behemoth ‘beast’ nestled fair derelict within

Don’t. You. Dare. Judge. This. Particular. Building. By. Its. Fabricated-From-Fiction. Correlated. Cover.
– Irish whiskey runs far deeper in fact

Seems these sliding/doors of entrapment ours held every single drug-addled city-dweller’s best kept sordid and sullenly suggested secrets

Damn near over twenty-three stressed years where tears fear not for they are all that they emotionally have amidst these death-defying, toil-destroying have-nots

Rooted to the none too truthful spot
Right here
Right about Now, forever hold their peace

Boisterously destructive
This greeting-theatre, wherein everything just must make … perfectly addictive sense
Again, p-l-e-e-e-a-s-e…

lend me the drug drop
Of. The. Century.

And caress my high-flying entity, unto carelessly crucifying thee

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