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1.3k · Jan 2016
Business vs pleasure
Anastasia Ejov Jan 2016
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.
1.0k · Jan 2016
Restrictions
Anastasia Ejov Jan 2016
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.
Judgmental society.
Anastasia Ejov Jan 2016
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.
Sonnet about birth and death.

— The End —