The heavens won't spoil the skies,
unlike the hell that boils beneath us,
and unwrapped is the spoil of the prize
and head-on we walk into a bus.

I praise but could never had wished her
and her godly eyes and flesh perfection
is dreamy of a tanned and wonder colour
as my chest is like an athlete running.

I wish I could see her inner spirit,
and how she can pull back the tides
of those dreaming so desperately,
to corrupt the shores open so wide.

A big house
is a lovely house,
a rich house,
a warm house.

A beautiful woman
is a cherished woman,
a clean woman,
a noble woman.

Both radiate:
her skin glows,
its columns shine
and the windows, oh so clean.

Try and look inside
you can't
              Can you?
take a peek.

As though its windows are clean
and her smile is inviting,
you can only gaze at the exterior
for when you get through the gate, the skin

The interior
is not
so
glamorous.

Under an old display of neon lights
two gilded exteriors meet.
Their gold needs to melt
and the lead core bared.
Wilde's prince's lead core didn't melt,
so won't their austere cores.
Their gold melted in the neon haze,
but didn't have the heart
to see their leaden heart
in the bright of the day.

As I wait
In the night's cold
The echoes of rain long gone
I fall back
Sweet reactions
And sweet smiles
Evoked by the idiosyncrasies of life,
All genuine
Whilst my heart
Congeals the idiosyncratic nature of
My exterior
With my interior.

Duality,
A concept irrevocable.
In it's amalgamation,
The force of its flux
Is unsettling.
And in my unsettled ease
Where does that leave me?