Prosetry, pinky promise

Bicycle wheels,
      bisexual spiels,
       oil spills,
        giant clock gears.

A funeral rose
      an officer's nose
       a fist-fighter's knuckle
        and a seatbelt buckle.

A camera attached,
      Lego building all smashed
       up high in a cage
        this chick's all the rage.

I'm ready for fame,
      I Know it'll be lame.

I'll be misunderstood and overextended, but it's fitting that I'll have started how
     I've ended.

--

A tug boat insists
      on kissing your wrists.

Alice is proud,
      And the press is allowed.

There is no sin
      There is no sun
       throwing up at times
        while committing your crimes