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She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.

She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.

She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.

She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.

She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.
frasier
i am 18 years old and i've kissed 17 boys. i've passed 16 classes, and cried at school 15 times. sophomore year i missed 14 days of school. i've figured out 13 ways to say "i didn't do my homework," and i am halfway through the 12th grade. my longest relationship lasted 11 months. i once left a picture up for 10 minutes, and received 9 comments about how unacceptable my shirt was. i have gone through 8 best friends and 7 phones. i've gotten lost on the road 6 times and i have 5 friends i plan to keep in touch with for the rest of my life. at my first job, i made $4 an hour. i've fallen in love 3 times, i've seen two therapists and i'm still holding on to this one thought that everything is going to be okay.
everything is going to be okay.
I been bumpin frank Sinatra

I been chillin with these mobsters

Perfect Italian girl put the parmesan upon the pasta

We had  white sauce on the angel hair

We were sipping on the pinot

Her hair was black as mine,

but her skin look like a kilo

Thighs look like a hundred grand

Eyes green like a c- note

Liquid nitrogen in her veins  

The tongue game ****** she wrote

She whispers fortunes in my ear

While tracing plans upon my skin

Lead me to a life of sin

Then gave the roulette a gentle spin.

I never gave her a wedding ring  

I proposed to her with the shell

wedding dress was made by Prada

The  coloration red as hell

Showin fangs in a crooked smile that she hid behind her veil

Death upon her breath, it turned the atmosphere stale

Unholy matrimony pastor trying to hide his thorns

Ring bearer bared his fangs

flower girl throwing thorns

Bridemaids holding bouquets made  of wilted lillies

She drove a knife through my heart and said

“ baby do you feel me?”
The weight of these words
rolling around in my head
are breaking my neck
one thought at a time.
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