i will stealth mob your eagles,
court him blind,
and make him a kafka
toward the libido of the crow,
shadow caste, shadow
usurper, the last remaining
worth of tongue,
be it, the remnant of tongue,
and tree fathomable in
felling..
             mob guise: mob rules...
i alone harvest the shadow
grist: take a picture! then
disappear!
          icon of the unfathomable
perfection in second bound....
blinky my love,
    and take to no second
steweard for a cause of resealse!
as you die,
i dire in the craft of your
lost breath... as i count,
in being my own.
         may i be the tongue tied
allowance of suggested release...
in the scattered
   quake of "thought" -
yours the least absolving truce;
faked magic
              for the most repetroire
of endings reaching
for the lost grin in grimm...
& co., to no unearthed chance
to explain the imbued cranium
in gothica construct...
                best explained.
i have you image,
lost within the reflection,
  of the tears i shed to account
for a puddle's worth of mirror...
i have you image,
lost within the reflection
of your face lost, intact,
inside the mirror of a chemical
mirror of a puddle,
laboured over in the territory
of the jackal joker...
dead concerning laughter:
dead with laughter alone,
with death bound to allow the remnant
of life: with laughter alone,
does man complete his ultimate
despair.
but i have you... my swindling
companion, the sweetest
care to be kind, as that which,
forgave, while being forgotten,
gave way to forgiving:
in latitudes of prison;
may we both, be minded, as mistaken,
and serve out time,
in the servitude of that:
of what can be said - equally shared;
scout's honour... you hear?!