Down ‘n’ out duncest of dunce, no-one bounces quite like Bird : this beneath ground hero with necessary needy narcotics near a trembled being – he still no less sees everything, for its whole widened pouring worth

Disheveled and cathartically cauterised right by the unthinkably brutalised mind
To cease ‘n’ settle ‘n’, perhaps, pursuit of happYness find…

Any which way back from the highly sinkable brink

Bounce like Bird, please – we’ve been wishin’ ‘n’ waiting with behemoth breaths held imaginatively captured,
All too gladly in aid of whispering He

The stranglehold strangle,
outright gargantuan aside severely serious entanglement

Estranged from an entirely separate sort of ‘high’ society… and his addled brain just must amount
Amidst this gutter-driven, slightly paralysing existence…

Of crushed bone, beaten to within a singular inch of these death-sentence instances
Putrefying His

Your wings are your weapons – Whereby everything baby-stepped Just. Must. Mean. Everything.

So suddenly soon – we do kneel, blood-arisen parallel imprisoned,
immediately near aforementioned gutter and prey,

For a piece of him to make soliloquy sense Say When

Some of us are staring up at the Stars
But, Bird… there You all were

Sinking shrinking-violet beneath,

Our pedestrian feet

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