When they felt for the sake of making it all up again that they made it all fall to its precious layabout knees and feel — furious at being beautifulLY BRokEn and over-ambitious at the brim actually. She’s
Radiating at… cordial pace and letting him suddenly taste her manicured face. It’s beyond their truest thoughts Of TangledUP Persuasion Anyway.. to truly tell the tale that happens without their snail-paced brains even working (it out) (((anyway)))
And if he really needs for a place to lay his ten-tonne head-the-ball then she’s JOVIALLY willing to upset the applecart (yet AGAIN) and carry it to the VERY last part of —- overeager symmetry Or if he wants to tell her the tale that no-one else gets to see, Nor Feel, then fine: “she’s been hanging-in-there and Listening For Herself In Utter Silence anyway.” These IRON RAIN brains With Fists For FOLKlore, though, and their ultimate NEED to know—
“What happens to the etchASketchA of SarcastIcallY Led-AsTrAy scribbles soon as (whenever) everyoneElse suddenly starts to beautifully bolster their
Idiosyncratic tendencies WIDE-shut actually??” And the silence ends up with its own VOLUME’S-up and violent screech against the strings of a Scintillated Violin . And this is (perhaps exactly??)
How on earth an inanimate object feels
At an agitated simper, IN THE argumentative FACE OF: “its most gracious WhImPer (about-to-be)”
That MOST Spectacular (level of) Pain met with Gorgeous Strain ~~~ and musically framed as sIMPLY inexplicable
{Except} to the delicious deadbeat at the end of
His street
