His hidden utensils have been crying out for his undivided attention, whisper at them once and they shall come back into amalgamated play – for their whole rip-torn worth

It hurts to feel it all and at remarkably unstoppable pace, bless the seemingly sorry parts of his battered ‘n’ bruised soul that will continuously fail to pass him by in their utter need to mean something, anything substantial
Interpretative perfection has been taking to knuckle-rapping at his thickening door and the rambunctious words shall have to be quite possibly the finest known to be

Garnered from terrific necessity and absolutely broken and re-shook, shape-shifted and re-choked into resounding play til absurdly aware of their very own distracting description
Indeed, the unbridled, joy-filled visual has been calling him into its tethered region and it carries this inexplicable want to break each and every next one of these bountiful lines bound for inescapable breakneck speed brevity

He is the plagiarised puppeteer and they sure do feel his resolution to resolve and to solve this settled fear which screams fair fecksome and ferociously within

A stream of realigned, realised, oft than not resigned conscience – self-anointed – that suddenly calls to gladdened arms this impenetrable probability, when fragrant and these perceptively fragmented words amount to all that they ever should and absolutely could manage to unequivocally achieve

A thief in the middle of the darkened night apostrophe, the reawakening early-a.m. imbecile, this coffee-swilling middle-aged man-child, mild-mannered and pill-popping albeit carries with him a sordidly inept sort which brings itself to comfortably usurp the underbelly deluge – enthused to see what others hold no real hopes in doing

A masterful reckoning, brought to him and beckoned back to life by many a soul-bearing standard and inevitably brought to brazen over-investment – downright implemented, no two ways – and to bounce and be wonderfully festered…
And it will be terrifically entrusted,
til typed, typed, scatter-scratched, -dashed and vivaciously, vividly, enviously t-y-p-e-d again… til but impulsively imperfect and carries with it this outright unexpected gaining in crazy amazement

He appears to be existentially both heaven- and hell-sent, even if oh so very agonisingly entrapped against the better parts of his better self

And he will stop what ever he has been doing for a twisted aside burgeoning time

To attempt to tell-a-tale and cause a pandered and awfully intricate and meandering thought to upset itself and to curdle and pause… and to take him somewhere exceptional

Is that, perhaps, a sophomore smile that we see?

And someday sooner rather than later, please
Placate me at fabricated will, why won’t you just… til it all of it makes ridiculously upright and improper kinds of corrupt sense again

Safe to say that this borrowed pen has been bleeding itself dry right by the borrowed brim of its unadulterated being, and we feel it…

F-i-n-a-l-l-y, as has he

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