Hell-sent upon this narrative creation
 
Her mind finds the time for these tremendously derogatory staccato decisions, and, meanwhile, he feels a little or a whole lot more wound-up and tethered toward
 
Comfortably insane  – for their worth they appear to be these two juvenile heartbeats with merriment and terrifically insinuating sedation pressed to place, to play it right the entire way roundabout and ultimately, untimely out the other side again
 
Whip-smart upstarts and rather invigoratingly real, about to start from the begging surface of the mainstream, screaming ordeal 
 
Scheming and scamming until it all reels itself off midst the bleeding peripheral region of the glorious glimmer of the hearts-apart heart, please, pardon us just this one last time…
 
Midst an evening time of fine wine and prairie dog eyes, we do cry patriarchal aside vilified by l-i-f-e – this glass is supernaturally half full, yet we cannot seem to simple see it for its whole snide-eyed worth in this blasphemous world
Tanked up, tuck on in, juiced to the unintelligible Delphian b-r-i-m – same thing, one of two sides of an indecipherable left-handed coin flicked to anoint
Unambiguously, if you will let it spill like lock, clock and stock-work insanely suggested yet speaking in whip-start tongues which will loosen until their backgammon grip, flawed to fixate, penetrates affably toward
This listening scripture – the author is reaching, mysteriously breathing, none of it in. And we go again… with our imagination for our flavoured best friend
Seems to be, appear to me, appears to be, that he is about as roundabout bland as his next great creation.
When we gently whisper it, that the wonder is in the wound-up worship. Nothing left but for himself
About to go, gazumped by Global – only nobody’s home