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All in one long breath, Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass, In the morning they wore each other's face, Joseema Ao and Edward Underfoot, Random blonde bio high density rhythm, Sit on my face and tell me that you love me, speedster reader, The infinite improbability drive
Nostril flares pair
with platform brows
moshing in uniform
parallel to sonic unison
the admiration addicts perch
all Parka’ed up on desires
double yellas juggling junctions
whilst angling verve-shattering swerves
with untold histories radiating senses myriad
packed with sharp neural elbows
nudging eye teeth crossed
socked and socketed
sat trapped in bootstrapping straps
(perhaps to boot — mute point moot)
two bleeding hearts parry
dead-end minds in the headlights
narcotic neurons grapple for gear
poleaxed axons clutch at coveted wheels
the more cardiac control the better
as they flip iambs then trip
their plight Tramtastic
wired slaves sleeved
and LED to the rhythm
by a sudden knuckle sandwich
slingshot into the slip road
chancing two to one oddities
hell-bent in descent they hit
the sin-drenched sanguine wall
(less vertiginous virtuous wailing)
dedicated devotion fleetingly derailing
its carriages skid back to flames
fanned with fevered fondness
motives loco for cash-splashed trainers
a drop-kick crash as beloveds thrash
with hard shoulders motorwaying
and in one split end
of a peroxide hair
they are beside themselves
(adjacent soul mates fated)
one eye sucked
stuck to the other’s eyeball
born slippy lips stacked upon
spines of the inamor
(to his toes and to her ta-tas)
lie akimbo as a savage stucco
of blind hearts and cloven coronets
organise a corrupt cathedral
of dawn-cracked ribs
yet for once
this carousel of rote rotation
the lock-jaw-in-awe joy ride
(that’s more than equal in the sequel)
yields no fractious broken bones
nor lithic songs of fossilised stones
for this time
she’s got her wings
holds her pinions poised
he has his stripes
knows his right to flight
forever significant unto others
yet wired boundlessly
ardently endlessly
madly badly
often truly gladly
together
shackled to and through
the continuant chronology
empyreal upon a Cloud
where sirens queue up to howl
as two travellers splinter away
from their sublunary communiqué
glorious in aureate* decay
this brutal passion
always and today
this is
a kind
of love.
*No fool’s pie rights – this golds a true hue
Esme's Cloud 
If reading aloud remember to breathe!
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laughs Perhaps I should add that to the disclaimer at the end, cover myself – Not pyrites, real gold, and breathe (don’t sue if you pop ya clogs) –
-Esme Cloud calling her solicitors Tickle and Squeak for advice
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You got me at “admiration addicts.” 😉
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Ha! Thank you Bela. As Bill Hicks said “It’s all just a ride”, we may as well admire each others finer qualities regardless of the bumps along the way.
-Esme belting up ‘pon the Cloud and waving
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I really appreciate how you’ve created a breathless, relentless tempo that fits the subject matter quite superbly, Esme, in one ecstatic eructation. I don’t know if I’m right, but it speaks to me of the nineties, of the nascent club scene then. Renton meets Diane in the Volcano?
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Born Slippy gave it away eh? Hahahahaha, yes, though more late eighties/early nineties; less heroin more ecstasy and booze. No Begbies stapped in any point, thankfully hahahahaha. My own This is England perhaps – the kind of car crash that’s a good memory rather than a scarring one. If then memory serves one well.
Thank you Hariod, breathless ecstatic eructation no less!
Esme dancing till dawn upon the Cloud with H
Esme tucking that and his ‘superb’ under her belt yowards the next six years upon the Cloud
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