A held paintbrush never sleeps, until… it’s living, seething artiste extraordinaire attempts to valiantly, both valuably attend, and affably, both ably pronounce themselves- Ultimately eager-faced and forgiven this particular time- aside sweet simply sugar-coated in sumptuous silhouette, and equably well shrouded immediately right by…
All of these inarticulate people, who mean no real harm yet seem to artificially, both superfluously remain

Inebriated at being
Nothing else but for=Made-up Mountains Out Of Over-Diluted Molehills
Like walking with fists near their ears… knives near their nails. And only ever, of course… collapsed, bedraggled frame-pieces

By the ingratiating nature of a “genuflecting” knee.

Peace!? Fuck-No. Made for layered magnificence only none of it seems to be seen at the church-going surface nomore

Prognosis- money-pinching nobodyEverybody knows

Added addition -option for reader

And built by the brace of the clothes placed upon his bent back
Comparatively and crazily=Like a ballet dancer with her head in the sand glass window- Anticipating everybody only No-one arrives

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