Bend at the waist be a doll, doll, dance your *** down this way, my way into sentiment, burning images onto the brain you can't get away.
Bend babe, shake or shiver as you please let lethargy melt into unkempt smiles, deep dimples of face-skin softened in sweet sun ray.
All the people in the street. Where are they going, and what does that mean in the end-times, the ever-present hour of a dying world's last breaths, here for sole reason of shepherding the sheep, because you're a wolf are you not?
Miles above the weeping masses, holding it together with barely a grip to give name; coping they call it, accepting reality as objective, something separate from myself.
I imagine the world as a bubble and I hold the pin-needle, too close to body to alarm and too close to bubble to bat away, bend please, bend at wrist for sake of sanity, bury yourself neck-deep in chance. Bend babe, bend away.