Harsher than the heat of the loving hot sun again and he will spread wide opened his amorous arms – to fall in-love with them.

And all of hopscotched he, whilst she will shudder and simply say, endlessly, like an oblong harpoon arrow through the misbehaving heart of the fledgling sparrow.

Nearest the farthest reaches of where she shall lie by his settled side.
Heavenly disguised every other recklessly inopportune day …

Finding the peace and quiet – quite riotously implemented – to realise and righteously realign a pair of outrageously vivacious adolescent eyes.

Count that locked clock and take soulful stock within paramilitary accustomed approach and begin to broach the silhouetted surface, baby.

Soon as they meet immediately right back where there favourite memories intertwine uninterruptedly again.
And remind themselves to restfully start at play-pretend.

And here we appear to have in our hands the beat of the wine-swilling dine of a Manhattan late-summer’s evening, heavily insinuated midst an over-elongated pair of erstwhile breaths.
Reset and restart a bland brand new life poised and disgracefully placed upon a purposefully proposed knife-edge, imperfectly at being desirably sacrilege.

Wherein they shall get to finally, pleasingly, altogether fair notoriously raging their way forth-forward prioritised til endlessly sharing one such gently pressed manicured man-, lady-made face again.

And against the perfectly smothered Earthly detriment of the predisposed other.

When they fell in-love with the heat of their dancing hearts again and nothing else for it, although he will lean on over and purport to pour and suppose to suggest a helluva lot more.

Forever aware of these never-ending starlings, which flicker til graciously fluttering resolutely within.
Seriously distanced aside decidedly overcast skies.

He: “Fall in-love with me, please.”
Her “Magnificently” says she.

And with their bland brand new and bare-naked legacy shared behemoth-ly between them, they will get to finally living like the rabbits upon fire that they dreamed of being.

Never, ever minding the sight of everybody else’s estranged headlights.

Fret not, for we are meeting at the middle of plagiarised ability and we are just excruciating anomalies.

He has always captured the courage to turn the volume up whenever everyone else was crying within holocaust eyes.
Getting just about high enough til regrettably getting to remembering everything wrong about them and theirs.

He listens more than every single second plagiarised person thinks and it feels motherfucking real.

Talk to him and see … that he dreams in total darkness every other day. No other way to prepare it all over again.

P-e-n. Sleeps next to his mind both night and day and they will continue to say but how does he do it.

No holiday. No guilty party. Just relative imbalance attempts to work its relative magic.
No real alignment but for the alignment in his mind. Behind closed-doors and roars for approval of a lesser known kind.

Already a foregone conclusion … just waiting for the hiders’ to implement and find – the right side of their mind.
Remain a logical and left-sided non-entity all on their own and they might like to continue to forever fail.

At prey-pretend yet again. They can buy their big lousy houses and empty air-planes midst their paper-town existences.

Whilst he drowns himself safely within til smitten inside of a sea of make-believe real people.

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