Don't-let-go Inertia... ...
HERE'S HOPING that your charm (to disarm) can never-never away my don't-let-go inertia.
Curiosity can ocean down your lonely-heart pebbles, but let-me-down sand lasts forever. It always comes back: my rabid Labrador. Watch for the teeth; they'll get you every time.
Betrayal in the smooth hand-wave through air. Let passersby conjure up the light bulb fantasy that lions and tigers would purr in kitty-docility.
Isn't it loverly?
Raindrops on roses and brown paper packages. Simple chemistry and nice little portraits.
But don't you just dread the backlash-regression? Foresight would be nice, but it's like telling the sin-crazed to abstain.
You tell me the point, and I'll riddle you the age-old kitty light bulb fantasy. Don't wring reality; we retell polygraphs for that.
Shake hands with their "kismet coincidence". Or do I mean "kissass calamity"?
Track the scent and let your bloodhound intuition compass-rose your first grade worries away.
Meet an "I" unknown to me and martyr it back through telephone boxing rings and spider-light analyses.
Shovel down a three-foot-grave for my separation-anxiety backdoor neuroses and half-height power trips. Some things loom too clearly massive to Sisyphus-dance them around forever.
Nirvana up my burgeoning ego and I'll mascara it back down again. An all-too-literal merry-go-round of dust-speck intentions and sub-carpet-swept "loyalties."
"WE ARE THE NOW!" which makes it easy to conveniently taxi away disbelief. It's your own dissociation when they leave the meter running. But of course, that's not kosher with Subtle-Leash Madonna split personalities.
We all have to swallow our ballerina perfection.
So I guess what I'm asking is: Can your Light Life Nail Scratches find me all the way through that foggy, backwards, don't-let-go inertia?