All that he has ever fully known
 
Buttoned down favourite best Hawaiin shirt, nestled in beer and sweat at the curvature of a hairy belly – an agitated author talks to itself
 
Insane albeit dutifully attempting for the paramilitary sentences to get themselves to singing sweet dastard linguistics aside upside down lullabies
 
To penetrate a thousand hundred beer-led, -fed brains the whole country over there and immediately right back to here now and forever trembling, sinking, stinking, thinking too marvellously fast again
 
The disgustingly clothed one, the inebriated person who shall unanimously cause all kinds of things to needlessly happen, at distanced happenstance and fat long dirty fingers and nails dance vividly inside of a crashing glass of tumbling red wine, ghostly white sometimes when the early-a.m. designated hangover decides not to be so very undeniably pained
 
And she is the chosen pretty one who sits whipsmart and naked amidst these typewritten procedural circumstances which make the might of his mind up for him – the screaming, scheming bare-naked inequality of a life best left forgotten and still about to be instantaneously published for all to witness in white
 
It was not white but seriously blackhearted via all of the twisted decisions he makes
 
A fucked up kind of ugly immaculate and he suddenly starts to lift again his delirious and drunkard eyeline one last time to try and make anecdotal mountains from whispering molehills amount to something best left remembered for itself and never, ever him
 
Oh, but for the longlasting individual romance of it all which continually manages to catch the cusp of its next stressed breath translucently inside of aforementioned favourite best readers murderous and muddied minds
 
And, all awhile, the argumentative cigarette gets to wrestle with the shape of his locomotive pen
A pond, a mouthful of liquid red blood carefully qualifying one aside another chosen fighting utensil
Struggling to be someone when he was someone all along