i’m a jailbird, wearing damned stripes… i’m walking with the mass of lumps, we’re accompanying Joe…we’d be better off floating on suitcases with the stars sending sparkly signs on which way to go…which way to turn…
it’s ridiculous, i’d rather push trees than paper, drink tea under mushroom caps, go with alice on her way down, down, down…visit rainbow fish.
but the fat man keeps winding me up, like a robot doll, i go-go, short skirt, hint of black slip, thin fabric bra…pop goes the weasel nipple, showing through…
i’m at slow simmer, but the knob is continuously turning up…and i take care to reach the right spot, the right temp, settle in the eye of your storm, where hands barely touch skin. when all i want is to devour you, and that’s not close enough still. make you reach the peak and tumble down happily. it’s urgent now, it’s the magnetic and i’m drunk…
the world shuffles the deck but nature knows which suits go together. no matter the dramatic, no matter the frill. i’m just as bare boned as catherine, i am heathcliff…too
