Or? Go figure.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXIII)
What? as night's blackness is passe in frail
Excuse, the hours now merely for good sense
Um, stacking up whiles I close down from hence
This slim machine for lack of aught else' tale,
And this where Twitter promised to avail
Itself of all my minutes--all's fr'intents
Too dead, dull, boring--I've moved on, pretense
Worn to a frazzle in aught that I'd hail.
Remember: "I should write more--" to bestir
Me, yet ideas have flown off unto
Is't nether regions? cuz I "watched in tour"
Who cares who? Fashions. "Follow her--what you
Should wear is...THIS." I've MY own style, in poor
'Scuse, am ergo at odds with all, cool too?
25Mar19b
Sir Philip Sydney would fume at L4 since the rhyme slides into itself over and over.