[MC4SiGHT]

The Canvas Renovation Theory

She blew a kiss to the devil, sucking her yogurt spoon…
As she sat beside herself…the squeaky table…
The school lunchroom….and her finger guided invisibly…
As her eyelids visually, captured arrogance…
The effects of parents which, steer their kids with fearlessness…
Valor, courage, and audacity gone over the edge…
Through flooding rivers, and dark woods of depth…
She stepped. She climbed. She got up out of her space…
An angel face.
But faces are only first, to a second deeper gaze. She flirts.
She smiles, she walks to my obverse. She files.
Photographing my expressions, as the face of an innocent child…
And though a while, since my last kiss.
I dare not be tempted by this temptress.
Yet as she moves her lips.
Words dip the atmosphere and spread to my ears.
Sweet swears, I swear I cannot bare, to be bare of her arms.
She’s an essence, a glow, a fluorescent, a charm…
A strangling hold swarming my presence, willing to harm…
An angel voice.
Which takes away presumptions, and makes me unalarmed…
I’ve heard of scars, which she has dug into past hearts…
But she’s busty, she’s slim, she’s sexy, she’s the in…
And I’m in, eclipsed by the sin she perspires. She never tires.
She wears men on her necklace and drags them on her ankle bracelet…
And though we teenagers, her dangers are adulterous…
She’s pestilence and I’m her latest test to it. She’s blessing me.
Kiss. Kiss. She captures my pecks with her lips, lips.
I trip, trip, her tongue is acid, her mouth speed. I’m fast spinning.
Spin, spin. I twist, she twists, together we wisk over another.
Were lovers, I love her. As she attaches her tentacles tightly.
While in truth she spites me. See that’s why she feels she must bite me.
Angel Eyes.
Beside herself, yet I fell to her devise to single-handily divide…
The line between trust and lies. Somehow I got entwined.
Now she dines. Chocolate milk spills as she presses over my chest.
She’s a vest. Worn by the willing, the victims, the mess.
Caressing the unknowing with scrupulous French. She’s a love language.
One in her own, words scripted in melodious tones…She sings…
And I think I fell asleep in her curse, fell asleep on her lap.
She attacks, she grabs, she grips, she holds on to whomever.
Until together, she clutches societies crutches clasping their fluxes…
And I’m the latest crippled, stippled off the edge of her brush.
And when her painting’s done, I’ll be the pigment to flush.
The slush, the mush, the dumb fuck, the who? As she grabs a new canvas.
A creature of habit, She is.

Angel Face.
But faces are only first, to a second deeper gaze…She wakes.
Faint. Her look is all I need, she need not say.
She steps, she climbs, she got up and threw her empty yogurt away…
As she gazed. I was no longer the color to paint.
And that was yesterday.

Angel Face.
But faces are only first, to a second deeper gaze…
Angel Face.
But faces are only first, to a second deeper gaze…

And today she’s at another table. Kissing the devil…

THE END

Topics Used:
“Second thought is always a little more reasonable then the first”
Yesterday
“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it”
Teenage Love