It's Not The Base In The Boned It's Space Arrival In Times Stitched

Reminded direction of my younger sisters term life sentence different certification signature stepped card,

gaming life in horror of the words that poured from her mouth in a rage full fit as her body fit attack,

chair flying back as she marched in to over me face as the shout screamed her sack to being burked again.

Her Father sped to grab his off spring in a fold of his arms with the force to hold a charging elephant,

the tuck between was filled by my Mothers stance in a stature of happening at the dining room table,

the look was familiar not really disturbing just accepting the new found grounds as reality to done.

My sibling however was a different view to the past in a slamming action of what people achieve as breadth,

the psychotic ram from her eyes was a lightening rod to the thundering rack of plastics lead to shagging,

an after math in the firing of the terms of my dismissal to this Planet made sensitivity startled in belief in want!!

Much to close to the basement stakes yet so far away in desperates as the age between pieced streamed,

to impact a person that has been taken so early to the reminder of how close R.I.P. exists to chokes,

my brain barfs in the skeletal frame of the thinking of exacts in such a common theme to extract a Being.

My mother has her expressions in a life that always saddened me at a rate to pace my own self to slow,

the walk down present is quite possibly a Que to pass for my Mother and I dance in a Ball Room,

allowing space to Waltz Life through the Pain I know she must have in her every Cell from Souping Tells.

I guess the weird to strange hope is that her chosen presently accounted for partner will gentle the dips,

as he is a tad bit younger these former years with me and prior to arrival hold survival of the fittest,

in that most Bizarre the Opera House commits to the Conduit as the phones are ripped from the Walls.

The Mind with a Symphonic Gear will Harpsichord to the Keys of Notes in Sheet Music Plays,

a Bass Guitar does not have Cat gut for strings it is the Copper in the Wire that brings the sounds to life,

as the foot work can be a Square Dance that was not Our chosen Movement in this Circling line.

Onward forward goes Our March to the Doors of the Lark speaking talking looking start kit the tool,

the Spool is the String to not burn the Syncs merely Spark the Fire to never drink the steeps,

commit to memory move the Wares dungeon back too Rack the Terrors horror is in the Stare.

With a bit of luck the Web in spun the Spiders crawling in with Pun a Musical intro. to a Sing Song Bay,

the grace of the Chandelier to the leaves of the ladder back chairs seek the click for the Metronome stip.,

watch Anastasia the Movie Flick and real the dream to the hope that lives have been licked for Ricked.

Ketchup & Mustard Stand Which When Told 'It's' To Pass The Blood & Pus At The Grands Table