Greenhouses in early Springtime stand tall and with artistic poise. Um, small towns of superior dreams, she draws a single line down the arm of her tattered right side. Legs of cloth spread wider and wider under previous canvas, um her night couldn’t luster with higher fashions! Lamp shades of roses, lilies and tulips speak toward her heart in dreamscape method and yes, her clothes are decrepit, trampled and so brand new, only for you! Um, goodbye stripper! Greenhouse in early Spring, she walks on in; early morning where not an element more could position as critic over whore, other than the dew itself! Goodbye stripper, she intoxicates herself within the scent of every flower! Streaming sound, she hears nothing more than streams of elegance. Her rose is dry, dead and unmoving toward every touch. Petals to penetrate, she is home…elsewhere raped roses. Her scent lingers on.