<no subject>

Tonight’s the night - sweet cheeks.
We are all enthralled.
It is you my dear. All you.
The butterfly girl.
Radiating charisma in apocalyptic measure.
Beautiful and wonderfully clever.
Idea to inception - you’re the immaculate conception.
Tonight’s the night – my love.
The night to launch your dreams.
The bankrollers of Belgravia are out to sniff the air.
They shall gangle gannet-like over canapes.
Gawping and gapping.
Expensive cloth flapping.
Loudly mouthing senseless noise.
Outside car lights will sweep, yellowing spitting rain.
They’ll steam the windows with their scintillating outbursts.
Belgravia cats are on the prowl.
Tonight they lap at your palm.
Pounce and make a killing.
Doll.