When we think we're masters over what little we know, it makes us slaves to what which we don't.

so the rangoolini temptress believes my doodles simple to stomach
acid rain effect on her brain's given her that impression
to her, it's not just a scratched piece of paper 

 bird anatomy         my crooked eye.

On Cherry St. she stalks her  balcony.

Smoke trails are entailed for the daughter of a tailor.

They spew over, embroidered in the blanket of night as a backdrop, magnifique!