Destruction of every blunt fate
Dwindling
I’m my washing my plate
I have devised a simple way
To dig the fork
Into this white
Without the knife
Beyond my course
The pieces of the round
Are stripped and strangling forth
I know there are many ways to lift you
To shape you
To cook you
Garlic and gravy
To make you
Mashed potatoes in my mind
What does this mean?
Simple representation of the time
I wonder if I should deal.
Observing the ***** ice
Shaking the cup
Will this suffice?
For my current incision
For my journey
My current decision