He with his (appealable) longing to look like a multi-emotive, stick-thin model, staring at the unreachable images atop the delicate pages of a thousand million Image magazines. Flicking on through deeper still, sinking, thinking if only for someone else who he wishes he could’ve, should’ve, become/ Slow moments that count for something dearly, only the speed of this has bothered itself til eccentrically disgruntling, improperly asphyxiating. With a held can of fresh popular diet coke soda and the look of a phantom what with his brand new echoic eco-warrior make-up tended heavily, dejectedly, upon / the scene is bad-tempered at best, utterly purposeful when implausibly grabbing at the tethering endings of a worst-case insolvable situation. Here he will stand upright, holding his square-jawed face, ever-lasting, never worth casting and proceeding to see it no other way. But for a disenfranchised mess suppressed painstakingly amidst this upsetting Jekyll & Hide face.