Never out of service
My loud in surplus
Thirsty cats slurping
Guarded by Cerberus
Burn brand my servants
Blue lights am swerving
Ghosts, blue as where Peter Purvis works
Perverts drooling, saliva pooling whilst gooning
As a Turkish sans turban twerks
Extra score, she’ll sell on this turf at half term
Just a girl, age will make you squirm
Aged up with make up and curls
My stories unfurl with scurrilous verbs
Of skirt, burnt lungs, and lines where you turd
Reputation for being careless and querulous
Preparation, designer gear I wear it lots, I wear it loose
Drinking Canada Goose shooters, disappear poof
Off down the street on my scooter, neat little shooter
Making decisions, designing sigils using my computer
At the stock shop it’s all free for me
Like I’m looting subsequent to world war 3
Just met this evening, she wants to be my amiga
Nipples like a cherry treat, dimples screaming marry me
Dick pics shotted, that’s her receipts
Her eyes rolled back, tongue out for seed, an exorcist needed.
Alchemisland 
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