Day and Night (AwAw)

Why are you so damn orange-sweet? Replete with numbing desire, what higher fire sparks explode down my throat (swallow, don't choke). I feel queasy, acting so breezy in speakeasy's so sleazy. Like naive, you look to leave behind that wheel you bite and fight to police a feel. You try to unfeel what's real (lack of life) press your thumbs harder (handlebars tighter) pressure point to the carotid you break it you bought it (but I'm looking; I've sought it). I'm reluctant to pay the tax-per-day way, because it smells like purple and tastes like you pray.