Silence then the overgrowth – all out boundless stories begging to be relayed
He sups his beer and bleeds by the page which simply feeds him, this is quite, shall we say, an odd entity and he gets it entirely…
Gets where these improper things need to sit of their paper-cutting own
He gets, above anything else perhaps, that people don’t truly get it…
And why on earth should they have to indeed breathe literary akin to he
And that hurts like relative hell, has to do indeed
Wherever from here, though!?
Who really cares, though, and who even thinks about these things