People dance around town, dressed in raggedy PJs. by night they prowl about still, hidden hooded with elaborate ragged (exaggerated) trench jackets, like their nails long slice the thread and slice but bite but petty puzzles only a miniscule thought. I need some dialogue. Quit forcing thoughts into my brain.
*
It wasn't a terrible failure, two bucks for a suck from that neon pink, plastic bitch beneath the bridge tonight, her big lips painted crimson wet with the blood of previous victims. This is my mission, to sound the Sitar downtown funding me enough so I can rock with dollars not nectar. And that was that. I dropped the gems into her hat and said thank you very much, wicked and oysterlike to be tossed thru moon-shimmering storm aglow.
"Oh, gimme a break... Diamonds work just fine without all that added flattery, honeybuns... Glad you had fun though!"
When the rain finally stops, I am faced with another problem. I thought it was nigh time to find some true food. To me that means humanfruit. Now, acquiring these morsels is a rather difficult matter. It ain't easy, to say the least. And the fatter the gladder, believe that. So I pick up my Brittle Bone staff all a-shiver and wobbly like a sick chicken dripping limping toward my favorite market. But when I whisper the world falters dissolving. But because my diet since I'm coming to town pretty soon there will be a riot.