After everything is the wish of what you meant,
to happen.
The delicacy, the rapture all remixed in the mind.
If you feel the love, it will come,
unabated to you.
Slippery.
Thats how I see it.
I know these malarky aint what
its supposed to be.
But sometimes malarky and its
disco like flashing.
Is the key to salvation,
Sure what is love but that?
Is not love mainly the reassurance
of the theatrics?
The be all and all and all
and bollox,
I've loved many a man,
By sight of nipples and chest wig,
alone.
Dirty bitch me.
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