Borderline Love Lyric 10

I waited at that poxy Scratby busstop
for you to be a boomerangel, Kylie A. Ellison, 
to return & beg me to stay,
now you saw you were in the wrong. & I
would pontificate, 'No rowsentment shall constipate
2 shitgivers who gave a shit the other shitgiver
lived & called it Love.' So, c'mon,

stop making me play silly beggars w/ my heart,
reprieve me from this poxy Scratby busstop.
Fain would I lose more hours losing
you, devise more emotional whitemail that you're
not even gonna arrive to be bribed by,
all flicterfain, arms fanned in amour. 
Fucksooth, I'd wait all day 

for some raunchy revanchism,
for some swapped spit & frotting hips 
to revendicate my iggydog carthorse heart, 
which is your endz, my Kween,  
& any kingdom of ends ends w/ you, my queen,
for me. I could never universalise what I feel for you.
But you left my slobber hanging 

as single(ton) deckers to Yarmo 
passed us wamblecroft buswankers by. 
Your chance to chase up our love? 
'Tamam shud', l/ Jono Doe in the Somerton drink. 
I've filled my loss w/ feeling lost,
w/ a purgatorial last minute that's lasted
as long as my longing for you

to beg me to stay. Our romance's
terminus was that illfated poxy Scratby busstop,
the outbound leglessness of my bad trip
to a borderline porcelain hell. I
may have stormed off, but your way of walking away
was sending me to get obliterated 
at the interchange. O she said she wouldn't 

take a moment back,
but she didn't want it now.
So how come I still want her back 
so much I wish I'd gone w/out. 
She's bought our love a 1way
to Switzerland, l/ a swandola a swirlpool
stranded in Swaziland. This is where we go,

isn't it? Where we go from here. 
Oh.There. Loadsa Nozza landrovers 
blanked that poxy Scratby busstop,
as my Eastern Counties Olive Rudge
ghosted me, missed the busstop entirely.
Bus to nowhere I should have been under 
I was on & nowhere's where I got off & stayed.