Carnival Rides Walls of Death ask to be peered at [leant in over shoddy welding]

until a howl of breath then provokes a spin into a swirl of vertigo

So sleep - sleep alone [shoot-em-up carnival clamours don't count]

In Super 8 minutes of thrill-rides roll her tale [fat men turned on by

her lickerish quartets & spools flicked upon her jerked-off screen]

Ride & orbit her hoops painted red & 360-odd tyre-rattled pine planks

Your fitted door shuts too tight - no rider will get out of there [alive]

St Margaret rode on a Yamaha motorbike - a 2-stroke affair of 49cc

No one dares mention Acapulco [not drugs or death of La Quebrada]

You won't have vitamins [but you'll always eat up fantasy in script & lines]

& motorcycles will idle - as that next show is set to rewrite poetic rhyme

https://wp.me/p6YRFN-43A