One breath – a forced lungful of vacuously opportune air
The accordion of humanely just sorts and they really ought to recall this particular event

Even if a thing of decidedly saddening beauty – truth is, he took her brutalised soul, leaned on in and proposed to bring it back to the brink

What she has had to contend with has been utterly unmatched, strenuously unequivocal
Something so soon as it lassoed her affable nature til taking the whole of her youthful experience with it

She is both the rope and that loosening noose of noise

Sitting awry and unlawfully cauterised by the thickening strife of a life left to it’s own peerless demise – people were well-wishing albeit utterly flummoxed aside constantly frustrated at her nocturnal Neanderthal being which breathes uneasily

Bargaining to be constrained til finally contained at the aimless snake of the comforting a.m.

That part of her screaming heart which fails at failing to piece itself back together – art for art’s sake

And, yet still, her heavenly fingers will endlessly linger atop one larger-than-life canvas
Of oil and avoidance

Asking to be bountifully, brazenly brush-stricken into brand new existence

Is this, perhaps, the existential awareness which they speak so warily of?

And, again, she begins to see something from outlandishly nothing and it appears to be that she has it all to gain for only ever herself

Her roughened regions have been wailing within

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