"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher.

(the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black.
the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.)

"hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need."

both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows.
this pub was called babylon 8.

the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank.

"nothing to be written down",
the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.
  
snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart.

a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams.
her name was fantasy girl.

suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid.
the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light.

fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8."

the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta.

fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips.

bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match.
lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud.

the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time.
fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.

Write this ****** as I've any care too.
Words rarely imply presented struggle
w/ capable conditions I've compared you.

Words struggle along routine routes
imitable in their ruthless mouths
seeping feeble attempts from keeping 'in' - out.

Brandishing burritos w/ nutritional intent
my concerns happily underserved
yet proficiently inept.

Talk of me -honestly- espouse worries wept:
means very little to those of us found down
(entrenched)- in here near sheer last-step.

Spurn-on to other realities unspoken for
just as prevalent; their prevalence
shatters all: unequivocally...then more.

Undying infatuations contentiously fraught
w/ awe to beget
rescind garbled-frequencies lest thee scorned to forget
such ideological complications pale against an implemented lament.

Mustering strength readying capability calmly set:
among the least you'd reasonably think do
but will ultimately come to expect.

one, two, three
pay attention and let me speak
about someone
who means a lot to me

four, five, six
let me tell you this
we were not sisters by blood
but connected by heart

seven, eight, nine, ten
she so incomparable
her traits are imitable
everything in her is treasurable

she's a second mother to me
whose love is selfless
she's always willing to listen
and guide me unconditionally.

she's everything to me
for she was sent by God
so she deserves nothing but love
coming from me and above.