For the lonely if-only-sExact same one-s whose swamped heartache whispers immediately within – these are the whistling winds and they may well appear to have been: the invisibly clothed, wrought-iron willows… self-deprecating wallowers/wallflowers of your timeWhen Monday broke Tuesday’s backPerfectly paralysed, peace-drilled patrons aided right by posthumously about to become egotistically red-ribbon accorded and ultimately belovedAdored both worshipped for a helluva lifeless lifetime – only suddenly, strikingly both soothingly brought back to a place of substantially fabricated freedomThe intricately mapped-out one-century club-cliché prison-sentence which has been lucratively both painstakingly treasured both buried resurgently beneath…… a body of
Champagne bones both kisses and left stinging on minus-degree heatUntil, that is – insistently dishevelled they brazenly stand ablaze with aforementioned heartache racing, previously pulsatingWhen everything maniacally manhandled managed to borderline make…Fantastically, fanatically, honorary sense yet again

When the penny fell