Calisthenics 1, Week 11

Fucking hardest mad lib I've ever done. I also want you all to know, the MAJOR coincidence with Lux's piece was ENTIRELY by accident. I did not want the influence so I read the piece AFTER I wrote it. Freaked me out, really.

Mad Lib Skeleton:

[Adjective] [Noun]

At the [noun], I was about [inf. verb] him [adverb] when,
at [adj.] [noun], [noun] [adverb]
and [adverb] from me, he [verb] first
to his [adj.] [noun]
and then the [adj.], and he was [adv.],
[adv.] before he [verb] the...
My [noun] [verb] him [verb], too,
and a [noun], who [verb] over.
He was a [adj.] [noun], [adj.],
[adj.], [verb] [noun] during the day
and his [noun] and [noun]
at night. He didn't [verb]
or try [inf. verb] the [noun]
with which he [verb] these [noun].
My [verb] said: "Happens." Our [noun]
[verb] [adv.] to his [noun]
and was soon [verb] towards us
with his [adj.] [noun],
of which he was [adv.]
but so far only used [inf. verb] two [adj.] [noun].
It was the [noun]
we'd usually call [inf. verb] [adv.] a [noun].
A [noun], a [adj.] [noun], you [verb]
where he, or she, [verb]. Our [noun]
[verb] a [noun]
beside the [noun]
and we [verb] him [adv].
I'd already [verb] [noun]
before I [verb] his [noun].
Our [noun] returned the [noun].
In it, there were [noun],
[noun] never, never [verb] before
by a [noun, possessive],
nor even a [noun, possessive], eye.
[proper noun], our [noun, possessive] name,
returned the [noun] from where it came
and, with the [noun] of a [noun],
we [verb] it [adv.]
as best we could. One [adj.] [noun]
[verb] [adv.].
It was a Friday,
I remember, for [noun] we [noun] [noun], with [noun]
on [adj.] [adj.] [noun], every Friday,
[noun] and [noun].

Changed Focus

At the start, I was about to redefine him entirely when,

at last call, echoes swift

and distant from me, he fell first

to his graceless misconceptions.

and then the whole, and he was gone,

empty before he kicked the...

My arms let him drop, too,

and a silence, who drapes over.

He was a misguided man, feared,

alive, burying chemicals during the day

and his name and dignity

at night. He didn't fight

or try to reconfigure the notions

with which he circumstanced these titles.

My drive said: "Happens." Our possibilities 

tended gingerly to his failings

and was soon bent towards us

with his crooked smile,

of which he was proud

but so far only used to convince two lost kids.

It was the grin 

we'd usually call to bring down a chance.

A gamble, a reckless dice, you throw

where he, or she, waits. Our reality

risks a lie

beside the aces

and we find him again.

I'd already searched time

before I released his attempts.

Our compromise returned the child.

In it, there were contractions,

obligations never, never claused before

by a human's,

nor even a God's, eye.

Chester, our father's name,

returned the toil from where it came

and, with the will of servant,

we wrapped it up

as best we could. One last breath

pacing ahead.

It was a Friday, 

I remember, for fun we thought trench , with hoes

on warm red clay, every Friday,

ditches and holes.