Gilded in gold and tremendously -guised
By the nauseatingly early quake ‘n’ soothingly oblivious shake of the blindingly obvious a.m.
When we start to send ourselves up on an ethereal wing and a noose-ribboned chair – over-excited by these exceptional lies, whiter than the clouded sky way up there
So very suddenly soon it becomes exceptionally brush-sticken til downright deliciously, deceptively imprisoned
With dashes of translucent grey to set our authenticated depression on mindful rewind again, reminding them all of why on earth we came back down to here
To right our ridiculously ineptitude wrongs
Sipping liquefied, river-drilled alcohol, we trip by the rumbling sides of a truckload of explosive dreams and note our very own bespoke downfall – smoking choke-hold Woodbine cigarettes while regretting the nestled fear which forever held itself at puppeteer-ed pace
There are no more breathes and all of it problematically poisonous at that
And, so suddenly soon, I lean on in to touch your shape-shifting face – there appears to be an unspeakable beauty shy-locked inescapably within which no-one else ever gets to finally see
But for me – over-invested, decidedly over-ingested, these paramilitary, plagiarised aside delightfully bulletproofed liabilities of mine
I’ve moved on to the Neanderthal white wine, snaking its way venomously inside
A daily and dutiful disaster on circumferenced, circumstantial wheels and I am bleeding right by its resolute rim
This road never looked so lonely, don’tcha tend to think?
We sneeze midst these beat-back kaleidoscopic implosions of lonesome ours and everybody so suddenly soon pulls the f**k back and lets us get to finding our very own haphazard train-track to self-aggrandising destruction
Do not hold back
When they intriguingly announce our mysterious names again but we cannot even begin to feel our forgettable faces
And, sadly enough, for the very first and last time ever
Treasuring the underdogs distasteful leapfrog of hope and permitted glory – if only, if only
I do adore the deep-seethed pain that I share with only ever you
This is the most truthful, fun-filled installation of the crawl to somewhere silver-lined and whining for unforgettable acceptance
The horizon will try but it is just not as kind on our paralysed eyes
Have to ask, when will we bargain upon being brilliant and better replicated versions of ourselves again?