Word Painting: Open Communication & Leg Envy

Get in to my head,
come common point, you, my tool to dialogue. With Frenchy and Fatty y Fi li (or Fr ed), we'll reach towards each other & dance 'til we're dead.
I'll Open my eyes & scour your words -- so dirty & dastard you wrote in the throes of reason. In Madness I feel conventions defiled, I slip off my Speedo --- with nothing to hide --- except for
(that scar that)
runs-down-my-thigh, from shooting a gun in-TO my right thigh, no reason at all except that Left Thigh is a bastard.