do the buzzard circle if you are a real witch, bitch

at yourself till your neck diagonally itches,
finally find a shower with a buncha well-dressed babes,
and then your remarkable appreciation of beauty is set aflame.

flying down the highway as a ghost with the haunted guitar
there's a spook that the paranormal hasn't been spooked enough yet by
my oh my isn't it so fly or dry or other easily misaligned lyre?

mezzanine tie-dyes

what could possibly blow my eyes out of their asshole sockets?
besides trying to hold my breath while pondering the infinite future?
usually i have a lot more control over myself than this,
yeah bebeh. 

but now...you've obtained the full remote control of me.