Outsiders inside of their own haywire of mind – they’ve relentlessly asked for the need to mask themselves in and “bask, please.”
In utter hardship mixed with utter fruitfulness. That age-old saga of yo-yo-effectual instances that need to feel.
They’ve searched high- and middle-ground for the stark-harsh Omens of a bigger picture set to breathe: (we’ve) even ended evening-Time sentences with our Soirée of Mind in a restless bind, our meshed together and hidden forever masterPieCeS equally aching to feel =
“We’ve made acres of mileage inside our own mind and, yet, (they’ve) lent their “wasted time” to fencing themselves IN again.” It isn’t in the middle of the game when they need to fAlL jovially, actually, apART: that particular PRESCRIBED art that had no (apparent) answers but for…
If we ship our people “OUT!!” And if we —- immediately diversify our economy of thought In A fine StrAigHt lInE anyway, (then) they may (well) stay the dedicated distance (again) and fend for themselves, easily does it, “plEASE.” Seems we’ve taken the bullets invisible to everyone else who has had to
Delve: inside of a mind seemingly built for beleaguered industry. And to have built transferable bridges between bugged and buffered, finely filtered people anyway.
She’s been sitting pretty with a condescending ring on her favourite finger
…
..
A lingering feeling of having been || built for someone else
