‘main event mimzy’ has been in a bit of a tizzy - ever since she was taken to task for showing a flash of thigh when it least served a particular interest invested in the new morningstar estate. she covers her gaff with a stage-sparked snigger, and buoyantly bounds back into work. an acceptable banquet for a bruised ego - half-heartedly and badly bandaged, though it may be.
she’s suffered worse and at rougher hands. harder hearts. besides, she needed the reminder, same as any regular: the roads with the most rocks locked in ya socks often felt the best - once the soles had been beaten in with a kinda boardwalk braverybravado.
and while some roads were made for walking, there were others riven with warning signs - and a verdancy that was almost verbose. a thicket of tickets to carnival rides and dark concertos.
as if she’d forgo the sights and sounds of such a show just to save the skin on her feet -
fat-fucking-chance.
so she continues on her set path, kicking dirt and dried debris, until the sulk turns into three-quarter spins - the color of spotlighted, cellophane wrapped sin.
she is back to her roots; ribbon, feather - rhinestone imbued and strewn - pouring over a fresh inked script, when the announcement comes that the tv tiddlywink would like a word.
unasked for starter for @radiomade ‘s vox
