realistically singled out

to crowd together swapping tints at a time when attempting the impossible looms in general knowledge printed on the nib of abandon - circumstantial evidence frenzy – when differing acts hold master keys to exacting small hours

appealing to a turn for the worse announces a certain jargon scaffolding this expression

plays light with cross references of focus and wrapping up of flair, it is too much to ask for the temple of this life to stoop even when appearances determine otherwise, it is another discourse altogether that opts for this sort of distortion, but we all know this pattern is smoothly run over us in different directions regardless of this focus,

any amount of time reduces allowances and transfers costs, this very routine doesn’t work because there is no stretch of the imagination long enough to encompass all its features, and we miss the point coming close to a theme of sense, that all truths are representative of further investigation, purely because attention repays, at least that is how we comprehend it and this is not always how we average it out, that is to say how we precisely distance ourselves from any real understanding as a method of factual diversification

but then that is not to say we are all forfeiting our attention span to the services of distraction, but it could be said, that half of all developments in time are numberless realms that transfer awareness to another deliberation of nature, our natures, that we have not yet come to terms with

in any case, first is the problem of mass misunderstanding and this comes as no surprise, what may come as a surprise is the suspense which all factions rely on,

then as now the given substitute for all this focus, is more likely to be a replacement

in the closed forecast any late developments touch this avenue more realistically

if there is a way to live that spirals the bed of roses all the way to playing havoc with phrases, articulation, and the turning of a sentence until it loses its footing, no staking claims to sky-high rituals or dying (died) for information

always single out the backdoor

there’s a seasonal quality to converting the old, flourishing in thin air, an idea to pull the stings of comprehension, an understanding that even at the best of times seems soluble, returning with almost laughably bated-breath to this brazen-faced point that never quite shrugs off portions of its heritage

it all becomes so natural that a shapeless pipedream may hold potential – when in other lights it might be thought better of

some parts of the cycle sink the faint-hearted, strings snap and even those weaned on pot luck falter

26.9

today’s disembodiment exposes the unquenchable balm of habit, taking on the chin a divided arrangement of exhilaration

25.9

today alleviates all ceremony, the sublime immediacy of refusal becomes woven and crossed as safeguard to increase, any escalation of listening burns another hole in intuition

night-pressed

our shoddy tell-tale signs, reminiscent of so and so, really are at their clumsy best, we’d like to beat (the) silence but it doesn’t seem justified, we could launch into monopolizing the edgeways, there’s nothing like injecting some fitful fiddling into this standstill,

we wake to collect dust on the outskirts of unprecedented and unpalatable invasions that counteract the ruins of stress and walk a life deprived of uproar with a patchiness to speak of, that interrupts and erases the drone of buttonholing

our textual hand to hand divided, striking the surface and bringing to rest a jumpy sun, we shaped the rhetoric, something more than making it up, to run as water, a regular occurrence most remote, night-pressed

lines were marked with the results of optimism a thoroughly arbitrary value lending sense significance, image sensation keeps soundlessly up-to-date, to go on empty long before the radar finds us

the outside may look somewhat demolished, which could shorten our forgetfulness, but without winding up surrounding figures boiled down yet mysteriously kept fast, our gradually made up fate, day after day, makes the wrong kind of arrival and you believe them and only at this stage does intention dent the scales

we headed for the extreme north, beyond the north wind

beyond throwaway discourse, not learned either, but removed from attack, cleansed, scarcely stated

no room for the facts

packing the moment with mere words, we set out to see at a glance all underlying threads, the touch and go of the half-way house, no home truths can find us there

our survivability is a labour of love, a rescue beautified beyond scruples,

we can’t tamper with the straw in the wind or dip into an unknown mincing of words, that backlog will summarise itself and steal the show, no doubt

if we can tear ourselves away from the watchdog and crack down on everyone for themselves in this ‘just kidding’ trumped-up token of symbolization, let us split your linguistic bellow in exchange for 2 parts chewing the fat, 1 part tongue-tied compendium

so your stainless sackcloth abuses its own comeuppance, for a daylight rehearsal of all the soundproofed dramas, this dresses-up manky veneers a treat

let’s say we were to complain of intimations beyond recall, our sham phobia, what good would getting away with it do?

I’ll tell you, from now on casting represents rather than sports unstintingly solitary quests, passing ourselves off as cantankerous we banter about double vision and lower our sights for the quantum leap – owing to pangs of innocence this restoration cannot continue – so there you have it, bring out your golden rule, slap it in this hemisphere and pocket the pushover

if it’s all the same to you, we’ll mar our own hype without much difficulty – “hardy misfits destroy hopes of anecdote”

in the era of outlandish felt-tipped futures devoted to dividing the line – the argument goes – yes … no... yes… no… without room to breathe

bearing the stamp of conclusion

we hung back from dismantling promises, extensive and loose fitting as we imagined them, our share in this upstart was wholesome, irresistible,

through gained ground we downed our thoughtlessness and split hairs till dusk

sleeping end to end with echoes, asking for cheap tricks to linger and disturb our aspirations when the last depths stole our beginning, something we hadn’t accounted for – no explanation just an atmosphere of pre-existent story

continually dragging this resting place behind us involved more than our hidden collaboration allowed

we happened to hold ground in that moment and lay another fluttering, feral movement on the line

too late for the same story over again

choking on decades, how can the living, in the ordinary sense of the word, remain unstirred?

such a heavy load lifts fingers – to the forehead of all faces

from behind the foolscap, elaborating prized notions of full stop parallels and topsy-turvy diagrams, it was all a little too much for the laced up lexicon,

(around this time you delivered some ultimatums - wasn’t it usual to say either/or?

call it being realistic, as you did, but occasions don’t always celebrate this belief in repetition

everything swung from limits, take it from me it was long, long ago that priorities set themselves against the backdrop of lives

it’s troubling, I know, to step aside time and time again, with no pre-conceived idea of who commemorates all this)

a profuse unfolding did not challenge this letting off the hook

the half-light that stops at nothing is ineffective at sensitising the long suffering to be at ease with elbow room

from a smattering of first thoughts, so much irrelevancy just realised, all peripheral to the model (that shining example) so easily unidentified

with an unflinching aptitude for whimsy, embracing the remedy for a to z, we can overstretch the essentials, leaving out spare steps, making splash redundant

what is foremost in the mind is emphasis, hard on the heels of triviality,

to have a roof over this minefield is as much as can be expected, your safekeeping half-cocked, some crude manoeuvre implemented, overused

we lent out nightcaps on the off chance

and what of the vertical? that dinosaur of early-risers

every now and then successive everymen refine a one-off

and our grins were out of this world, full of unbroken psychological handshakes and aloof backers, good company kept alive

further attempts to remain undetected

beware when they come from the same substance, the generation’s simultaneous statues,

carried along by unsightly things, somewhere all would be salvageable

we could presume this unavoidable, push a button for a new background, and affect the interested who perch around us, in their strangeness, schemes behold ribbons of understanding in the half serious that comes as it is wanted and the high minded, just more fog

and the secrecy that dismays, the scripts that change great distances, the warming trend, on and on, for all the blunders and considerable embarrassment

any attempts to come alive in the old days, when we were colliding and colluding with this kind of alarm – what shall be told of living backwards, of obstacles that un-did-and-un-do, enabling no more than a slipping and a talking and an illegible photograph, singular evidence that history started naming this dream

the success of our noncommittal promises, introducing the cancelled out and looking forward to budding see-through attractions, the special given moment, the additional line - that span of days and the reminder that nothing done is a prompt and where mockery here, in the rest of the world is painted as a clearing of our names

it was because in the sphere of the solemn and miraculous such boundless happiness could offer no scuffle and disquiet, we were compelled to continue the rest of the short distance which completely changes in grammar and takes place over an unshuffled working out of a final consideration

able to capture what has been swallowed in the story which does away with the arrow of last chances and points to an endless maturity

for a long time we cannot be wrong, proud, yes, but certain vital strands recognize the washed and brushed, the entrusted expert who hands over, leans over serenity, neglecting sentences more precise for the ones that finally incarnate into a hesitating beat, moulded somewhere along the lines to assemble an awkward call taking charge of matter

at the last well trained stand we continue to attain full control of the miniature, the thing that barely stirs, but seeps and settles, spread out along the wave that passes for substance

nevertheless attempting a brief mix of movements, countless sounds which suspended existing conditions, confident that we could reassure in just a second, or right away, by writing down all the ‘don’t matters’ then drawing back to admire our handiwork –

there is nothing to waiting a little longer, continuing to postpone comprehension, not resisting the crawled performance tied to a degree of magnificence, all on the spot reminiscences collected within a prolonged paragraph, the twitchings of Neanderthal poking fun at our satisfactions, every touch, every progression a circulation of close proximity, too severely fabricated to make more of the same,

well aware of this chatter of filaments all too often relegated to the diving board of our imagination

we don’t mind staying put as day dreams, this threshold miraculously supplanting all fantasies promoting the mind to infiltrate the undetected, to come full swing on ourselves

extracts from tomorrow

a fine mist… fading at the mouth ahead of a mirror that holds our residue, we lean over, there we witness our multiplicity, lost in the turn of following deep down, down in search of earth to pile around our words and all of a sudden send up the appearance of nowadays

we perceive little else apparently, little else that others between us show signs of, they possibly appear everywhere, but we distrust their might and upset their looking for

and perhaps they don’t exist these stifled elementary images… pointing for so long at the same spot, at times we lose sight of its presence and doubt altogether the world, nothing that we know is untouched by living the unnoticeable

in pinching ourselves, our ears wake up to the sound of drawbacks circulating,

the voice of tearing clothing and the shame of burnt foreheads, as we contort into daze and feel progress galvanise within our breath, this hazardous perfection again apprehended our pleas, but didn’t shrivel up their collars, turn there sleeves into their jackets or button down their quick intonations

gripped with confidence, the same on each face, it would be just like them to press tighter as we push away, the ones who crowd behind us, the ones who pull…

still there is no risk to be run if they know well in advance who to grant examples to and who to permit pains their full bursting

as fear cracks the finish on perfectionism, don’t try to use our arms as stays, any gestures slump in line with what seems to be giving way, gently we forget to turn around, lower our eyes and pass among them with everything emanating the impression of heads thrown back, quite proudly we observe the turns away, the turns inward…

standing near again, we take our allotted point among the surer of the frightened ones, they lay down, their feet climbing the walls, shaking to the bones with each command to leap into life, still they lay, their thin cracking voices restoring hoops for the future

silence is re-established, we lost ourselves for a moment, no distinction between every detail and the ways of imitating

it is to be suspected that towards the heights of dismay come crushed looks and uptight airs, these liberties we take with the leads we follow, scamper away as soon as thoughts look us in the eye and matter of factly think us through

purpose done, images at rest, but we know the grammar of exasperation, taking a big forgotten example and brandishing it alive or dead

what is it you have in mind? the lengths we remember are just a clatter of artless sounds, dull as the gaze of air

could it be that we have hardly broken the double, when standing a good distance away a confused hum crowds out possibilities

extracted from meandering we bear ourselves, open up to the surge that stills and returns in rhythm, breaking silence into particles,

outlined by threads that remain at the end, as they remained at the beginning, drawing on the eye as they pass, the head nods, the body stiffens,

the path carved out is polished as a precaution, we can not only feel our way, but stubbornly pursue our way sometimes, without care for tearing ourselves apart

in mesmeric consideration of intermediaries who lean over the full face of themselves and show to the impressed how final and pivotal are the slowly perched remains of who is ready to see all, however it seems to us, turned always with one eye, as if respect enforced distance and kept us at the wayside, loose and getting away with the wanted

spread too thin, these fragments concentrate where they will, broken down even further if that is possible, no rigid sentences, but exploded identities, peopled still, but coming to the will of everyone, freely accepting just about any difficulty to gather the days into form and replace the barely perceptible trembling, each shy glance makes