nothing about the weather

Drawing like steph
Again
All this sketch over my fizz
Of reach and curves to my arch
Places are the circular
Those tails I draw now cos swapped details
Poor rawings, my drawings, my sister has cornered me
Into rain tainted blotched robo ribbon painted
Into my paper
The atrocity my emotive, rocked
Down cheaper than it ever is.
Cos the world's worth to me, but my artist inspires me to search Materialistically so that merge is a lean on tasteful congeniality,
In my daily cos all my drawings blended to the one single line as sexy time ripe up on the lined like I'm sorry, friend, I'm sorry if you got stolen by ribbon detanglement before the fire was stolen cos you were the one who taught how to walk through my door and steal my work off my floor
Cos you wanted the burst and flaunted and dispersed aspired alongside it as the coward who overheated. For flattery it sang to me that spreading like you were doing the cat burglary and then selling under the same spelling,
as your own hone