Children Of The Evening Of The World.
Some b'auteous Beauty are foundations of hell
With their slay'ng dresses with beautiful rags
as a borrow'd hair, hair that flies in the winds
like the wings of the fowls. But the air has blown
and we've seen the naked fowl, we've seen them.
When rain fall, it streams down the earthly makeups
and makes a beautiful mess of their faces
like dirty scribbles of tribal marker on Abiku–
The beautiful hell that flames weird eyelids
and the shinny eye like twinkle stars and hungry sun.
The beauty is temporal like their senses;
like them or low aesthetic of ugly beauty–
Hence, they spangle head like the tinkling of cymbal;
as big earrings collide to sing as ding dongs, to jingle
songs of 'notice me' for a night ride in sexy heels.
The evening children of the world that host
on body sale like pests, they're simple uneasy
fellow that spoils the bean with bitter sugar,
Even if sugar is mixed with salt, ants still pick
sugar, and if sugar looses content, it's as water.
"words from the innocent mind"