Look back

Pimples skin- My, my first line corrupts. Tensing teasing touching pimples. Lest I have the guts. Buying flowers testing smells with feelings. 50,000 don’t worries. 

Shot stashed frets find furrowed brows abound. Grounded thoughts and tannin tears are all I have left. 

Left, left. Elephant. Broken pioneers for forward thought. Emotion and motion- forward, up squeeze honesty and humour. Nothing to give, so care free, caring, freely. Swapping small and simply. My red eyes and hair look at your and snicker. Behind bars, nothing is sugar coated- as you pass me by your limp.

Pink bag. Pink shirt, too tight! Your muscles are too tight, constricted or constrained its one and the same.  No magazine haircuts, no stress or time of day. You joke but I know you. Getting big. Like the ghost of all those dead Bilby animals. Morphing drained spirits into a lost idea. Thumping heart. Clunking head: 

All we were, skeleton. All we were- pod cast. All I was planned for- Russia. Your thin boots pass me by and Inthink about theses payments of the idol: cold chaos choosing me as its first. 

Fist of strutting untimed misery. Like the rain pouring down or biting a gold chain with your teeth. Hands rip and roll with angst. Sliding

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