And yes, they will still say that he is crazy!!!
Because, simply said, he is…

Just a little less minus her incremental, instrumental blessing
Editing what is seen to be enviously impossible

He turned the world over to unearth her secondary soul and, oh, how it shows

When his damp, dry day transforms itself into gold dust
(This permeating difficulty of his to fail at adhering lies perennially within
This foresight and thirst to taste the whole snide world)

They can teach him to bottle a funny kind of fame but that peculiar flavour midst disputable taste
May just begin to kill the inner within of his better being

Shelves upon shelves of nothing to read and he motherf**king loves it that way – plagiarised at being decidedly improper, these readers read nothing but for utter romanticised drivel and drive
The sacrosanct swan-dive trapped unofficially within a failed page-turn in literary history

Call it a-r-c-h-a-i-c and nothing else for it – the more you read, the lesser.

Better believe it. The first chapter he started, his heart fell apart. The diffidence is delirium and all that you can do – is / feel / it /

No teaching the meaningfully estranged meandering of that imbalanced silver-lining.
She sees it and he simply feels it

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