We were wolves-of-wisdom and upper-echelon add-ons of make-believe MayHem. Mischievousness is her middle-name and she blames everyone-else but for her (sugarcoated) self. “They’ve experienced the undeniably upside-down and made inroads approach a… AhEM… fork in their very own roads, actually.”
We weren’t even making aforementioned inroads matter ‘cept for within our sugar-coated brain. “There’s this… THING that everyone ((else)) wishes to suggest… that it’s all a game of
Play-it // Fake-it // Make-it amidst.. a million-and-ONE (((half-dozen))) cluster***** of totally unkempt persons.” We’ve acted of ordinarily estranged intent and went for the peripheral jugular anyway whilst the
Official-people paused to YET ONE. MORE. TIME… “paralyse confiscated-by-life eyes.” When there is a wildly-wisdom which sinks-to-SwIm – this breathless bounce of BarGainIng amidst utter DROWN: how many rounds shall they place us thru, though, ‘til
“Our barkingMAD barb-wired existences make
Idiosyncratic sense??”
