Close your eyes and count to ten,
Why do you pout, you need zen.
Society makes you count your lads?
Lets clad in white and shout at them *****
You want to hide in mesh?
No, I say you stand up and salute the coppice underneath your flesh.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
Take my hand and you’ll be well,
I cannot tell you how I dwell on the absentmindedness of your sell.
You ask me have I come here for pleasure,
I sigh in despair and leave a great lingering glare,
This is preposterous, I am not monstrous.
Only for your hand, do I come, my lovely crumb.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:51 PM UTC
Impulsive drones, these machos you have flimflammed,
Wolfing your proportionality like a **** brewed nectar of grapes,
When flimsy limb frills no more interweave, expertise reprogrammed,
Are you the lone from infinite frames murmuring, “once more, he escapes”?
Indignation ******* broadcasted, ferocity wrought into the fiber,
Prior, where narcissistic pathway architecture once lodged aloft,
Calloused acknowledgement of her duffel, abrupt pang, necessity for a prescriber,
My mettle is feeble of the soap opera, hanging one’s topper in my breath, I coughed,
The cauldron perpetually gurgling with spume, mingling itself,
Gyrating with giddiness as if my noggin was a top trinket,
No dust crumbs in any bustle ever jubilated atop my pit-a-patting instrument’s
Masses are anticipating for my enveloping blanket,
I perhaps beam till the cattle wham the timepiece, though seldom do I chuckle,
Shall journey with the ensuing waft, no comma for a buckle.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC