Thinking of sidewalks and the calico cat of love. Does it end?
Thinking of presentations that aren't so cosmetic. Then again, maybe this can be the new cosmetic. The new Marilyn Monroe. Nail the Snail. When Norma Jean dissappears among the Marilyn in the mirror... Something about her and fire....burning....A tradition underlying the facade...Machina on the freeway, oooo la la. Meat on that cross? Pictures. Framings. Strategic conversations. Holiness in the mirror. Kill her under the rug. Get these ambitious, ignorant, youthful shits to chase her the fuck out of her existence. Oedipal Delights, changing the light. Tube play. Recall the visual...
Recall the overdrive infinity. Recall give this bitch a bouncy ball. If she supports DVNO she gets a scratchcard lanyard. Worldwide baby. Waxen creatures looking so fucking warm. Quick get your teeth fixed...plastic surgeon on speed dial. We are getting it all day every day. On the rise, shining everyone out...solo on the ELEVATOR. Zebra Stripes? Prison Stripes? Recall Zebras. Zebras....Poppies for poppy. Food Stamps. The trust we build. That witch. North? Friendly on the playground? It's on? We are all just the same. Look at us; We are so friendly in the mirror. We have so much to offer. Take whatever you need. Be our guest, friend. This table is yours. This wine! She's looking great. Bank on the Firbank. Always professional. She's on her way up the stairs. Don't you want to play? Olive Trees and Ulysses, oh my!
We must control everything, if it's not literal make it literal. Blue paint to the sky and beyond....Quick, hermetic jibe and BEYOND. Flat-Line with ambition. Surround her. Everyone be on the lookout for this fire. Maybe it's about camping outdoors...we need the full exchange in the mirror...underlying, what's underlying...fixture picture it...we need to be the knower....what do you mean metaphysical...we paint the sky, there are no harmonies contextualizing space that color a realizable blue sky...no turbid hues unless we iron fist everything...we rip open the buds of our society and profess all to bloom. Stack the pawns, our youth, and the the word on her. That's how it works. Treat them in the way that helps them realize our fine fucking flat-line. HE IS. Especially if they are a pauper. Who the fuck can stop us. The law turns the other way for us. We own the law. Just keep stacking the pawns...we've got that money flow under the table and plenty of mindless flowers to sport the armament. Afterall, who doesn't want access to our grid, especially when nice-nothing gives you exclusive access to the side-sadal. To be that flip-switch winner. It's so easy to fast-track these days. They of the ancient bitch must endure. Destroy the fire. Destroy the ancient bitch. No play for her on the American radio anymore. Unless Norma dolls herself up with a bedazzled thong...fuck her. Where's Daedalus?
