With such splendor announced,
depth's true,
rang me near you.
Call again, sometime around.

Smile does fade, as ones do at my age.
Alas, it relents;
my greed inspired contempt.
I hate them! And I scorn them!

Tryst with the whisp and a settle tooth squirm;
have they a feature with which I’m not adorned?

A sensual bite.
No.
A thief with a price.

And begone, another feature to affix to the crown that adorns them.

Another Galley sets sail.
Tempts you, Witch veils.
For Her feet are a feast for the finest, not least.

And I heed them.
And She smiles at me,
and She scorns me.

Stark sickness doth dank and,
stuttering blueness smelt rank,

Yes, underneath the lanterns,
the tragic conspires imagined desires.

Ah…

Even the abysmal can’t stand them.

Met here with a flick, the vaunted whisp,
“Surrender admirers, K’nurl to the wisers!”

With which wit met…
only a matchstick, “What a near Miss!”

A flick of my wrist, her bellowing tryst,
the depths of the Miss
and the people all gather,
and they’re all holding hands here?

Once here, pose.
Do in style them.

Where trip wisers trick trip stylers,
heavy rules to impose them.
"Hang at the noose!"
The icy abyss,
dark mires,
once be told,
can never resist.
A cavern, “we’re saved!”
Treasures ferociously glint;
carnivorous outcries, Her ***, the inlet is spent,

Cast back, deep mist.
Once at sea, forever adrift.

Trainspotted islands,
can’t seem to find them?
Never mind then.

Our K’ nivers’
pet survivors.

Dare we do wire her?
Flayed amiss,
the wires perk and pet style her.

Through the expanse,
cavernous glint,
dark relent,
another fix,
a feature is spent.

And praise unto the wires.

Guttural shriek,
wrought with “Who is that reek?”
"Her banshee we seek!"

And praise unto the wires for that which transpired.

What’s below the mist?
The Galley of the spent.

Hear me, dear, the Twisted wrangles and pet love do inspire them.

“Hit me!”

Add another tryst, dank tooth flayed amiss,
ire the abyss once again set adrift.
Dare feet, do for sought them.

Cavernous toils,
the muck, my spoils.
Delight thus struck, and my tooth snags! (and broke open my bags)
I squeal! And I squirm!  Masquerade as a worm!

Fleeting gold glint,
reflection shows features are spent.
All in delight to,
the icy abyss that fillets Her survivors,

“But what of trip wisers?”
“Fear me! Most unkind.”

Flayed alive and served,
wrapped neat and submerged
into the gut that cavernous mutt,
a guttural shriek, delectable feast,
into the mouth, the naysayer’s platter,

For you Do Not Matter,

Slide down the throat,
soft lumps do evoke,
sensual desire.  It clings, gross intent.

Depth's true?
"Maybe soon."

Smolder so tired.  And repeat until spent.

Once at sea, forever adrift.
Rinse, repeat and, fear me, do rinse,
for this is

ah…

in the name of the Miss.