And the deepest exhalation known to be falls from his tongue-tied lips and we all begin to breathe …

Like supportive crazy – this shall have to be the hold-out to paralyse all else other hold-outs scatter-dashed across the land

This breakneck-speed hand has pandered and wandered … and been as waywardly fixated and tied to the gifted spot, upon all of these literary inclinations as humanely possible

When the calling am. wakes him from his bountiful slumber and all kinds of conscientious syllables begin to ready themselves …
To spill, spill, spill and sumptuously simmer … and gain no faltered ground … like clockwork crazy, from said thrilled storyteller’s forever lips

Archaic aside age-old lesser replications of yore will fall away to wither

Equipped by the never-ending awareness lent to him – when no thought-process need ever truly occur, but rather a natural born slur with clusterf**k words starts to break the very borders of these mundane ol’ sentences apart … and ply them right-back-the-wrong-way-round-upside-down

Rushing fridge magnet words shall sort themselves out – carry alignment and solidify this rambunctiously sought after rhythm which has stretched itself to annunciation, to meet at the middle the jaw-dropping rhyme

Stop all of the clocks, for his inane ability will, rest-assured, bring brand new descriptively pressed meaning, soon as it appears to We, to be that all absolute meaning seemed utterly uncatchable and lost

Truth is the thing
And, for him, an unexplainable reason to see … these preciously pushed snippets borrowed from a piece of each of all of you

For their real and altogether momentary immediacy