My eyes are shot to shit, a mind on fair constant rewind – all too intrepidly willing to fixate upon the absolute correct kinds of words altogether
In order to get you and yours over that line
Remind you all of far prettier times – quite literal in this particular instance
Perchance can I somehow, anyhow manage to make seven-billion minds intertwist fair evenly, steal each and every next gaze – peel these eyes a mile wide
All over
Blinded fair unequivocally by a seriously unmatched ability to set fire to an imagination
Be it young, middle-aged or senile, I promise I will turn that frown wholly the right way round – contemplative demonstration on nothing but a mere shoe-string
A monologue parade in your every waking honour
When words carrying aloft all kinds of colour get to swarm on into you
Few who can do it like I, or so it does indeed seem
This may just perhaps have been borne on into me
When a gaze becomes so naturally fixated it cannot but be anticipated
– blazes of glory ricocheting quite masterfully in your unsuspecting direction
Fate played it’s careful-cards, finally landing them right by my quivering/gun-slinging lap

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