I’m nothing so special, far more flavoursome characters on out there the world over
All talk, no action as such in this particularly literary instance
Much too silent a pretender to ever really feel the outright need for anyone to take any kind of true notice
I have my bone and I will continue to chew it
The only kind of fire I do desire to be my each and every next word floating all too enticingly, rather suggestively inside of a majestically decorated book of sorts – my brother, my laid-back hero, seems ’tis high time for you to step on up to my page, glean my craft via your daft brilliance
Physical might indeed be oh so very nice
A slice of life in a most deserving manner, perhaps?
Please, don’t you and yours dare ever take a lapse in utter concentration and forget about me before I’ve even really begun…

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