Existence Womb (16)

   
   "Existence Womb (16)"
    
Miriam's Dad got her a joyous job at a romantic junkyard--
There, there would be no college frat boy with Rohypnol targeting her virtue with wood hard;
Moreover, what sublime splendor and divine ornamentation in trash from an exodus,
Where you get to barter or pay even less.
While last night her Sleep Paralysis proved paralyzing--
The reptilians pinning her down, once again, whispering lies that she was dying,
Yet she knew corporeal existence is just the forming womb,
And the greater life comes forth from an eternal tomb.
   
   So, she met her boss, Mr. Pewter, him a true ectomorph, like the bodybuilding Frank Zane, living off of organic veggies and fruits; plus, an almond-laced chocolate bar here and there, her knowing Aaron and Moses' Staffs of God morphed almondways within the Ark of the Covenant or Testimony.
   
MR. PEWTER
Welcome aboard little girl named Miriam.  You can start by removing the hubcaps from the antiquated Gremlins and Chevy Monzas--they're the little piece of crap cars.   
   
MIRIAM
Miriam smiled, almost tranquilly, adoring the remote vagrancy and virtue of a STAR WARS type atmosphere, like a droid factory, away from the seducing sprawl of corporations corrupting.  Yes sir, Mr. Pewter--I look forward to disassembling any type of Gremlin.