Lively consent, to a riddle in the fold
Friends with panic to dance, have a charity in mind
The told eyes of panacea, to show a wish is older
Than a gall in the stir, of realer shapes and kind

A dance of detriment, with a bone to pick
Silence in a shadowy right, is for the substance we add
To the hip, like a cherry in the tone of a guilty lick
We seldom the sore thought, for an east of what we made

A tear dance with us
A dead succor notice the life in a press
A thinking mete, to honor the silence, with a shrewd discuss
A finding of poorer since, in the hands of heed and lessons

Just a moment, the truth is a dragonish stink...
Passion to make love to patience, is worse than we hunger for...
Time in a thematic exchange, with ropes and isolations to link
Panic turns out to be, the coming night where one salt, is worth two in a heart with a taste for a bottle of courage...

Absinthe, seems to be better, at wishes than us
Stark invitation to a noteworthy party, riddling with vanity and poise
What is a really tight feeling staring at the stars during the times we discuss?
The answer varies with an appetite and its shadow, but friends seeing the better of you, is still a mind's choice...