You are bright green grown
Absinthe slick burning easy tide
Rolling over my better judgement
With a handful of sharpened  quills
Pressuring to produce
WWWWWRRRRIIIITTTTEEEE
Biting the end of that word with such force
That what remains is sore
Skeletal
Fill in the blanks with kaleidoscope instant mix
Whisk and whirl
I feel your gaze upon me, lucid
Yet you don't feel a thing
*You never feel a thing