MIND IT?

how would it sound if she blew her nose on rich green satin?
would you wince? grimace perhaps? shake a disillusioned head at the depravity of a wanton age?
but is it not music still?
earnest attempts at the trumpet...pathetic, but earnest?
here! let me assist you-
a gentle puncture would do the trick...go forth! go, puncture those insidious pupils that are insomniac by choice, noting vigorously every minute detail of your life in artful shorthand from behind rich green satin curtains!
go and set ablaze every brewery frothing at the mouth with despicable precocious lies!
and now...
now the court would be adjourned, brick by brick.
jurymen would stumble in the dark, elbows kicking shins, knees punching bellies, angry curses wrestling each other for a firmer foothold...
come on! smile now!
the hegemony of the stiff-collars has perished, extermination of all pupils carried out with sparkling precision!
accept the anarchistic music with open arms!
poor girl, her nose will be spurting red streamers soon...
tell her! go, tell her!
tell her the party is elsewhere!
come on girl! welcome to the club!