There has to have been something amazing amidst this

Waiting on a whisper from somewhere succinct and special – sink or swim, he sinks with the swim of this generous pen

Those ten thousand hours of learning to lethargically survive, why on earth does the writing have to matter anymore

Mind over aforementioned only it all seems to matter so very much these days

The OCD brain – white-washed and caters for all of these pernickety noises

Begs for a piece of undeniable quiet – Bed, toilet and back to bed again – a whipping flurry of uttermost regret and spontaneous survival

When shall it all start to feel rather real again, he has to comprehend it at forceful will – the thinkings thoughts about to enjoy a sun-spattered time minus the angry angst aside unstoppable tumult anymore

The Jekyll and Hyde…  story

The glorious necessity to dress one’s self properly carries a contagious smile with it and to unanimously proceed –  Feeds that thirst-arisen soul set together by ingenious instincts

All of these scatter-crashed feelings repulsed and forever torturing the better parts of his paramilitary heart, pushed piercingly toward immediate brilliance only he fails to feel it, never quite gets to see it like all of those other pained visual people who read, read, read til left dutifully kaleidoscopic in the mind and good to go again

When his words were his only weapon yet the hardest part to handle – waiting on the size of a silent sinking pill to thrill his yesteryear soul and bring it back to a place of bargain and belonging

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