Deluged, under-enthused
By all of nothing too very caressingly well pressed
It was never meaning to appear to fabricate and be
anything but superficially insane
This plain outright brilliance has failed to personify til gradually remaining perfectly inescapable
When you stand right there
With your entrapment hand placed doggedly right by an umpteenth beer
and these invisible tears
Are ferociously meant to mean next to nothing other than pure tantalised, over-thought paralysis – these equally invisible laughin’ ‘n’ screamin’ silently out loud
Silhouette friends
Two decades decayed
by a beautiful, full-on mental health disaster that shall only ever be yours and only ever yours to agonisingly force oneself to ruminate and to disagreeably treasure
The all-out plaster sellotaped together, selling yourself out right by the forlorn wayside
To face at full-flight, the all-of-something fight wherein intrusion brings outright automatic manic erraticism
None of these solid frozen fleeting moments were any of them ever
your first decision
Seems the captor’s grasp is maniacal at best, utterly distorted ‘n’ twisted aside painfully shameful
Too scarred, scared to ever go back, when, so suddenly soon, forward seems to be the only known reasoning
And you place that entrapment hand right by another dime-a-dozen pint, and watch the whole snide world walk uncontrollably on by
Same situation, same deafening silence
Grab both of your cold-shoulders and propose to oneself
The final over-indulgence
A most likely must in your whole wide world
This burning-hot lust has never been quite quenched, by comfortably captured imagination
I wanna be yours
only it seems
I need to begin to try
‘n’ be mine
I will pour to restore

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