Waiting for your love on this hot summer day
  I cry and cry the pain still stays
moms pacing in the kitchen making sure I’m okay
My second birthday
It wasn't the only special thing happening today
I was meeting you, Daddy
as you knocked on the door waiting to meet your baby girl
our souls touched and the pain went away
I always knew I was a daddy’s girl,
you were the first man I fell in love with
and the first man to break my heart
now I search this everlasting world
for something so viciously missing in my life,
trying to find someone who can fill the void in my soul,
the void that you were supposed to love,
if I ever meet you I will ask you why my precious face couldn't keep you
I guess no one really knows how addicts choose to live their life
I wanted to be your baby girl
and you wanted to party all night
with random girls, who felt the same as I do today,
the same void because all they wanted was to be a daddy's girl.

She persuaded the curvature of the seam. A dressmaking utterly agonizing, to reach the smoothness one must perceive, it has a regret with the difficulty of repetition of a trend.

Her foul purport carbonated the clear intent. But an impecable illustration did provide them with the warmth they intend.
The cycle lacked precision but their pliancy was a treasure so **** filled with her preciousness.


Velveted silk portrait embraces and confines a cause within a retrospective, a muse divides with a major uproar, one with the furor of nature uncontrolled.

The spell of glamor enchanted the failed dorks. They daydreamed fuzzy temptations to achieve their doomed ******. Of their antagonised exchange was born an incurable rage. The vexed source became cursedly recruitable for their loveable tremors, she had no knowledge of their cultivated adoration.

This will be our temple to our redemption and acceleration. It has consumed us all, encased conscious with translucent locked up doors.

The excitation has endure the incommensurable, the deluge did occur in the future. The scorn we throw to each other is acceptable if I desire to engorge her, it'll wear off your vile will, it'll grant me her savoury thrill.

Velveted silk portrait I beg you not to demise and ascend. We'll ravage the essence of your pure command, although, our adoration is the realest love spell.

I was snarling when I saw you embosom him, it felt like you were entering something delightful and never ******* ending. What was behind the blinds it wasn't supposed to be appreciated, we were always stood in a horizontal line and pulling harsh, all acts performed were a praying for your preference.

Velveted silk portrait, we encouraged you to revoke your beauteous den, to an addictive merriment. We'll howl with devotion to this new founding arts, her paint sparkled in the now dusky lane. A palace never menacing to our welcoming, an unfair entrance to the terribly but tender embodiment.

The gladness finally dragged us to our unfair refinement.

concrete, metal, steel and glass
lustrous phalluses
skyscraping
lighting up the dark
no stars
visible  
visual
pollution.

with an iron fist
the rulers of the world
reign the world
out of the towers of babylon 8.

who are these people?
what are they doing all day and all night long?
what are we being told?

beneath the towers: a vast red light district
populated by desperate, greedy, machiavellian creatures:
driven by addiction

drugs are sold in the street 24/7
since the councilmen of babylon 8 established a drug policy
that is called "babylon's way".

it has been administered for three decades and ensures that slingers and dealers are given a set place to do what they are used to do.

in order to calm worried citizens, the police raid a stash house every couple of weeks while dealers are waiting across the street to go on as soon as the cops will be leaving.

the rulers of the world are addicted to themselves; many are using.

the slingers are faithful to any kind of mind-altering substance; many are dying right now.

close to you and close to me
while these words are written down and by the time they will be read.

people die daily because they do drugs.

most die due to abuse
some because of regular use
and even a few
trying it the first time.

what do YOU think ––
can anybody hear the addicts' last breaths inside the towers?

how do the rulers of the world perceive the world?
what's going on in babylon 8?

besides: babylon 8 is not an imaginary city.

it's real name is
frankfurt am main
located in
germany
(a.k.a. "bankfurt" a.k.a. "krankfurt")

globally known for
its fair
its stock exchange ––
and a skyline
of bank towers