Your distinct class of invisible broken-back seax appears to have been the most appropriately named of armorial instrument – unsheathe to garner a quick breath of fresh and stinging air, your proven enemy feels no other happiness but for your amalgamated pain which your heavy heart tends to suddenly so happenstance upon

Your guaranteeing guard wherein bullets go to bounce and flounder have become your everything fair sentimental, concocted and vivaciously constructed from tuck-on-in imbalanced procedure… yet… insipid and sickest of sickly these bang-out-of-order boys don’t know quite where they are supposed to look anymore

Or who they may find – treacherous and telling times of unashamed disclosure, gathered and gruesomely gained by unfathomable degrees of ineptitude and awfully awry, have been tiring and turning til endlessly twisted and churning the bare essential bones of your beautiful being again

Both exceedingly and exceeding self-ish expectations? – please, do your damned damnedest, your personal best, to instrumentally cradle both meanings

Stealing the most preciously, precociously sought after and seemingly ineluctable pieces of your better meaning

You’ve been inescapably screaming, haven’t you just?

And the multifarious rhythm has been snaking to meander and tantalise, only miserably, miserly gaining at failing

By, and of, these usually suspect standards of yours

Few who knew the true and incredible crux of incredulous sacrilege shun haphazard upon only ever so much as you
Apprehended your incarceration – captivated both by and of custodian custody, and then you shall shrink to a voiceless non-entity and against every will…

And oh, how you absolutely did and will again…

Your tied and tested tongue is but a tiny piece of pink and meaty history, yet it does bring with it the necessarily matter of factual fact angular degree of misshapen and upsetting mishap which everybody cannot have to feel

No less intensified, albeit silenced by the mindfully mindless noises which none-too-soothingly cutthroat it all

Your falsified instances whip-smart intensify a lucrative need for an outright falsetto-ed existence

The juxtaposition literally screaming boisterously within you, wasn’t it just?

And propose to suppose you could actually turn the clock back to tick-tock-ing brilliance, then what might you actually ask yourself of it?

You bounced when nobody was counting, nor watching to witness your climb from the palace of oblivion – attempted to orchestrate just too damn much, soon as you pardoned yourself pedestrian like only those few who shall and can create contagious realms of poisonous imprisonment from double-doused delirium

Sinking and shrinking akin to a flame which sets itself on inner-ward fire – grappling at the gargantuan heat that only it sees

Which treats the moment as though ’twere meant to be nothing but for destructively aware

Detained and drained by a dreamer’s best stressed inadequacies, deranged emotions ship to shot shore

Still thinking for the ten of us well-wishing people who shall forever carry kaleidoscopic and comfortable hopes near our excellently favourite dreams

You will need to stand up and be counted for, my over-invested friend, to constantly, creatively, fair fecksome fight for these crying times of ten thousand less impressive, expressive days

I’ve seen your remotely controlled mind falter and gather itself tight right by the fisty-cuffed, manhandled and stifled collar

To gain it all again and get to crawling – markedly unwinding at postponing pace

Under-utilised and flabber-trapped, -gasted, by a million makeshift moments of undeniable hard-graft, paralysing shifts in littered, loitered pain and your body feels everything – it has, all of it, been bewilderingly, unspeakably substandard and blasphemously below par

Until, there you all were – blinking to rise to the brink, bring yourself right back toward, unpardonably upon, otherworldly brilliance and all of this after all of these lethargically enhanced years

Over the gulch and into the feared fray of reckoned upon Resonance and riotous Reasoning – wherein immaculate dreams are stood immediate and none too imprisoned
Savour your ferocious foe who keeps you tethered and bewilderingly egg-shelling, rip torn and, oft than not, worn from a case of toe-to-toe pandering

For he/she is but an unflattering, whispering and whimpering breeze of inspired, spiteful air way up there, yet agonisingly tethered far away down here

Their contrary ego knows no bound whatsoever

And you ask for nothing of it but for a comfortably insane / comfortably deranged brain – wherein your malnourished actions matter more than most
Ever can, will, and probably shall

Your dramatised dreams of being ordinary have been decidedly far-stretched and hiding away from themselves, caught by the hidden and paralysing in-between of a plagiarised kind of unkindly perfection

Which forever directly seeks extraordinary

Hold the barbaric beast that is your guitar strap close to the silhouetted shape of your haphazard heart-strings

Because the shyness is a-coming, a-calling… and we will need for you to sing with your best suit heavily, handsomely attired upon

-Seven ways till Sunday-

Please, bring the -beat back to normal procedure

And, as you wish, at your very own oft than not foretold risk

Whether the rhyme holds no reason, you were wholly made for this particular mistake – now prepare yourself to live it.

Word has it though that you were born faster than a bullet.