just going to publish this; no re-reading, no editing...
borderline fortified product of narcotics at the depths, and at best, a lonely narcoleptic who went to bed often solely to awaken; mistaken he was for a narcissist, but instead, kept from the public was that he bred with the better part of the partition that is morbid contorted fantasy and his dream reality -- or did he have it backwards?
meanwhile, in the hazardous parkour parks that reside in the confines of his mind, she undyingly contests for his attention and watches the route ever so carefully laid out, not knowing he'd plotted to pick and weed the rogue seed and gouge the sprout that is, was, and will always be, she...