n leas of dying daisy's he lies upon the backs of those he lays the lies like upturned bricks thick with spittle and coming mud he muddles through each splotchy patch as if it is his idem everlasting last coiled he reels reeking in wait for his unappealing stiffened snake insipid wretch with rusted wrench his shrivelled tools a cake with stench each loose lewd ***** is one more lent to the putrid pool of polliwogs and salamanders spent drenched in his capsized boats of ill demise he criticises truth and lies again the pain is gnarled around his pen