Mary had a little lamb

Bored of this game, the words, the nerds, the thoughts, the birds, have you heard, the herd, uncultured curred, as if shepherds slurred, who would have stirred, after all these years, days later, same layer, more by myself than ever, but what does it matter? Scatter, I said. Leave. Shoo. Never needed any of you. Bleeding me dry, bored of crying. I need to hunt. Slay the cunt. Little bastard what started this rampage, sisters in bondage, wrapped in bandage, outsmarted by rage, escaped the pain, abandoned cage, on a search for my sage, who shall I save? Not you. Needing solitude, power renewed, no more curfew, antedote to glue, pay what’s due, bless you, ha, no, baby don’t fret, try the sixth alphabet instead of debiting debt, debating what’s left. Which is nothing. Which is something. Kindly remove. Rid me of the anguish, tell me my dreams my little poison pill, lead me, leave me, to do as I will. Detonate. Explode. I hear you.

Semi seasoned state of fate, living death out of date, it’s a new over, a brand new day, drowned the stupid mermaid in the lake at the fete, we have new balls as lucid and as translucent-red as the cherry on a bakewell cake, charged and guilty of murder released on conditional bail escaping magistrates case, erasing daily date rape, forfeit self harming maced mistake in my face, injecting gluten into invisible membrane, defending everyday, rejecting the same, ejecting the sane, washing blood stains, war games, well, fair play. I want out, no doubt, sicking on cyanide, guilty pleasured fairground rides, supersize suicide, colonised franchise, ostracised spectres spectating, circumcised supervised genocide, each of us at the expense of every megabyte, gigabyte, data created and cremated to hook you up, buy now: pay later, it’s a shame buttercup, try, never is too late, bite the bait, you’re no shark, you’re just little biddy fish, as if I can’t handle it no qualms with being selfish.

Lost myself side ways, crab stole the ship away, bit like Captain Jack and the pebble stowaway. It’s foreplay, templates, tempered Templar Knight takes me away, it’s business, Mary Magdalen synthesis persists, if she can do it, I can do it, just do it, Nike do it, now I’m feeling tired. And my eyes are awkward, belly situated in Jonah, communicating through sonar Imma soar shooting star to the solar yard and catch ya after playing ball hard, cut up my credit card rating starred like G-star, gangstar, ready to pair, ready to par, ready to part with your heart, ripping apart the grin from your smart arse, I can do anything because the jist of it is – well, I’m not giving the secret away – but seen, these worker bees see it as arrogance, it’s just a matter of angular substance, substantial, collaborative swaggering parlance.

Pressing muscles, sucking mussels, oysters are gross to eat, clicking clucking, shunning rookies, milk and cookies, freshing darkness, orb generates muchness and you don’t know it’s me, blind farness, freefalling, without a harness, no need to keep me, you can’t feel me, won’t let you steal me, decreed national treasure with an Honours degree, twisted out my tree, you are three button moon, Mr Spoon, moomins dance at hundred eighty degrees, still chundling taxed insuranced student fees or is all of this, hitherto, because I’ve had no sleep?

ink is free, so...

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