A bounty by his head and it needs to
Come to simple fruition

This is because there is something spectacular setting itself up to purposefully occur, even for people to suddenly realise to realign these compliments in kind
That he may well have received

He sits with a Baileys – dry ice, on the house, slowest pace known to be

Has to be,
And he has already amounted to all out clout

Tempestuously underground about to arise and arrive – either is paramount to perfect

Supposed to be plain downright easy because a bountiful mind finds time to rearrange each and every last intricately stressed detail – the all of something daily steal and he will never propose to be anything other…

Than a probed at pretender

With silence is utterly golden and pressed gently against – it is all enough right now

Of course he has separated himself from the bedraggled rest, and that my friends is precisely where the light gets in
These cracks are mightily deafening, echoic by nature

How’s about we sit and read and finally let ourselves see that he is writing with a cracked pen settled upon a dusty ol’ half-arsed blue laptop, his go-to calling-card, adamant to fail as he attempts to make up the archaic difference within

A collaboration with We –

Reality in this particular case really is stranger than
Fiction
And he breathes it in by the absafuckinglute bucketload, swallows us whole

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