What does thy own self call obedience? Is it ******* or lies that keep speechless minds to bathe of freckled crooks? Creaks to swim in, the weak will one day stand to win like fisherman of a billion steeled hooks. Catching bait, baiting the catch, locking the hatch to samsonite terrors. The fair's running fairly these days. Romanticism's plays to artist croche daperies.  Buttons snapping to fine appeals to ones fashionable accord. Pray on your knees, confess your displeasureable sins to the lord. For he, and only he can hear your dog likened crys, from fog like lights that explode into a million pieces. All the reaches to what god has to offer, a universal mix forever living, living dead is ever after! All disasters I see heading down mankinds tour, put on your flannels, your fake loves dismantled , screws from your beds will all hit the cracked wooden floors........ (Dooms day poetry) by me Brandon Cory nagley