Could but turn their fuses
Could but turn their fuses;
They were expressing frogs from my terrible duck, ha!
Mishap, MISUNDERSTANDING, and faith — the code of the lie:
The thread of misery.
To ruefully-rusted trigger;
Under the PAIN of the brain:
Now wherefore command you me?
YELLOW rivers and PECULIAR DRINKS for to enervate,
The MOIST IMPLODING days of yore.
Astonishing beacons and LIMP pans for to STOMP,
Charismatic delights CHUGGED in my nostril — I’ll never love again!
They were wrangling textures from thy manly subordinate, ha!
What do you think about this one?