Plug socket mule.

Here in the present waiting to wake the plug socketed mule  

it’s been enlighten now with Contrasting fish eyed lens 

staring down another seven phased night 

of a monologue reloader that’s so hot 

it no longer needs to spins.
As a incomplete moment plays back again 

on lost edit of the cellular hollowed hauntsman.

as you wipe a rapier that splashed back your face

For cinematic fiction and bullish mood 

sets that change across a borrowed brow.
It’s as fixed as its purpose as the rod

that warp under heat and strain 

Buckling  to the backhanded of a night

clipped of four referenced letters.
Strike  a sceptre unaccepted fate That can’t be sugared

blood that’s now boiled dry

When the script writer has its own agenda.
Some choose to ignore the inevitable 

ideas and evil of a tie and being cornered

In rooms as you choose to speak 

and type those words in haste.
A Magnetic gentleman pulls in the evens 

Pointing at odds of a split table 

of those fractional vertical halo colours 

And now aware of the all encompassing dials 

When short on Cold Pressed time

Don’t become Lost to a waste paper life.

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