There were unmissable minutes of understandably unmissable angst, an angst that purposely ran to a shy, little sprint at the highly restorative core.
Bestowed for now with this unerring sense of ability to feel and seize —
Seemingly something from absurdly n-o-t-h-i-n-g whatsoever ALL that grandiose anymore.
The rhyming scheme is SUDDENLY off, the scheming sense of rhythm nature soft
To the soothed touch/ Somehow she’s been a MUST-DO-THIS, MUST do that.. affable and ably uNiQuE artist
Of undeniable merit
Who WILL take this evening-time sensation (LIT AGAINST THE SIGHT OF THE sinking SKYLINE AT NIGHT) and seamlessly SEDATE Herself ‘til left feeling
All sorts of…
… Comfortably conformist and emotional / because it IS right-to-say that she HAS-had-her TYPIFIED day, and it WILL continue as though a fast-forwarded and lifelong, lovely little brand new version
Of the very same insanely superlative thing – she is able to seemingly suggest to another uncontrollable and thereforth-hence-fore Unconformable person, JUST WHAT IT MAY take
To settle her sporadically sprinted mInD.. one trustworthy minute of deep, dark and deafeningly SUGGESTIVE breathes … per UNARGUABLY momentous occasion
Of utterly antagonised happiness / til brought justifiably back to herself
She starts, again… to DELVE AS deceptively deep
As a piss-poor puddle Of her own imagination’s Bespoke making