a soft cough is often lost in ramble, turned and double-crossed.
a lunacy of macaroni, and quite tasty paste -
the usual gods decanting the vinegar of all hope lost...
and a wasteland just going to waste.
what doom is this ?
does it trouble rainbows, or climb spikes in blood sugar ?
does it still keep you where the dark-side of the moon is the first light ?
a soft cough, a red robin, and a thought