A pocket of picking piles to ply brooches from; the old woman begs to exchange her tongue for a daughter cased within a factory of infant candy, alas, she smashes tender heads within my factory, and I shan't give away such a lovely specimen of doubt.
Inside and Outside grip whispers of maddened toys and trinkets, sold are they to Clock and Whirl, your slices and shops of twitching happiness, my children of moons and somber lights.
Do not speak as if the bells toll in midnight summers, a ray of mindlessness defies you as I command so; beneath the mahogany table without a pretty face you linger, doused in coloured liquids without an expression or thought of progression.
Hold aloft and praise my grand jaws of silver and ice, I demand you, ingest my capsules of sweetened formaldehyde and become one which you are not; I must place you into a bath composed of plastic air, please lie upon the skinless floor with your intestine-filled teddy bear.
And now I bid you Adieu with a smile and container of parasitic rats, their occupation is to serve you with dignity and utmost care; first your tongue is sliced and candied with toxins, followed by your entry into the contraption of glossy gnats.