Throbbing hearts and bleeding inks

I don't want what happens sometimes, when Sometimes doesn't work at all times. Goes on a break, sleeps during working hours. Lazy is Sometimes but sometimes, it's just Lazy who's lazy- sometimes. Like a babysitter who is always on the phone, Sometimes leaves us hanging loose as tassel earrings worn by a garden girl with cracked lips on a sunny harmattan morning. No pattern whatsoever, only hazy clues. That is so indecisive. Oftentimes, we hear what happens sometimes, and a few things that need to be done sometimes. No, not a few things literally. I only summarised them tiles of principles into a single drawstring bag so they would fit into my fanny pack. "Sometimes you have to just get it over with." Tom would say. What does that even mean? do I just let out how I feel about her, or that's going to be a little too spooky? Erhm, how about spilling the oodles of cloudy insults hidden within my lung sacs all unto this bald lecturer? Jeez, He always gets o...

She pursed her lips to a stop. Not that her mouth wasn't full of prickly words too, She was taught to hold her tongue. She was taught how to stop on a full. Bite your tongue, hiss backwards the commas, stab the colons to semis and strangle the quotation markers. She was told. She traded her bold to a hold. Her tattoos took her aback. Those days when mum was an artist; She would paint Hercules in Superman's cape at a stroke of her bamboo brush, Milking the brows of Mona Lisa, And in one instance, mimicking something close enough to Nike's logo. Her board is spaceless now and that's senseless For her body could not harbor any more decor. Not even at a discount, no.  She looked pale, The sunset was bright, Her eyes dimmer, Her thighs, thinner. The hinge, weaker. Tired from the many frictions she moans to. They enter without booking,  Without prior notice of a call; Dress torn, zipper down, Her first moan was for Ali Baba,...