Typewriter's
Have my dread
If random waiters?
Listening for the phone, patience's lead
I type like a fool
See my chaste, with perception
I have officially lost my cool...
As a redress, for spoken introspection, we seem
Care and character have their fools...
More than a corrected future
Few a strength, with the voice of youth
Call it crass, an impunity is bred to keep curiosity?
Jaded or judged words of defiance...?
Solemn time, in a year's clock
Share the skip, of Friday the thirteenth
We have other words, to viciously mock?!
Victim of heroines?
A heed of suggestion, calls me...
On the typewriter (which always wins...?)
Where is a telephone more a friend, than dread in holy deeds; dear me...
Is; your fate is with meager
Toil and baffled eggs, I wearily tell
Of what interim, there is, to the devil
With his horns and forked tail, pursuing you from hell?
They seek; gum removers
And, gum without a tired eye...
Are you a decency, with a misery of lovers?
Should a lover sleep with you, when shoulders ask if submission is yours for a pipe?
Hello, austerity
My many and stultified mercy
Is a role in a quieter city
With a rise of mercy, to the level of heaven, where it's even mine to worry...
Count me in...
A hated smile, favoring nothing's eyes
A patient stir of shame, to sin...?
All in the way, for a devoted face to keep why...?