They asked him if he knew everything and he simply told them next to nothing whatsoever at all. But for all of this and that and every other single thing of intellectual manipulation amidst crying-shamed over-protection. When one person becomes a living, SEETHING, petrified version of themselves and BARELY even GrIpPiNg…
To the edges of bare-faced ReAsOnInG. This has been.. … .. an inhumane cluster-shock of a most decidedly DISGUSTING enormity- –
When, We do oftentimes wonder, WILL we EVER get to see… the real and perfectly imperfect and erstwhile version of this thunderstorm man?
A tight-knit family, a forever-ferocity of supportive friendships, which shall and can do their DAMNED DAMNEDEST to grab his bristling hostility and WrEsTlE it
Down to the ground. Face-first and VOID-OF-THIRST. And ALL of this rHyThM and rHyMe time… squandered for what?! For why?!!
And ALL OF THESE lacklustre feelings of impending and twisted fucking bLiSs!
“Fuck this!” says he. If only ever to Himself.
Nothing EVER even NEEDED explaining in the first place distasteFULLY improper, Just… for Us to sit and stand and STARE..
and applaud awhile… watching his insatiable face drain ITS SECONDARY SELF
Of ALL monstrous PAIN: til.. another day, another view with a tilted, manipulated and mentally distracting perspective- “takes him sadly away”.