Welcome to Misadventure, you're drawn to it in some berserk way, maybe due to it's atomic habits or technological urges,

sometimes there are cool, but irrational gun-totting robots who speak in foam, their presence detected by iron filings or teeth fillings or both or neither,

I just know there are tire tracks on your wife's new dress, the smell of gasoline coming from the guest bedroom, and a half-eaten Stouffers lasagna rotating on the record turntable,

and here a replicated version of your wife dances to the Italian Song, her ******* like lodestones, upturned and pressed together,

drawing you to them in some berserk way,
and they give such life and merriment to your brain's parcel of needles, that they prance and sway as if the devil were in them.

Rogue, unmovable,
Dark force objects of maiden,
  .  .  .  Irresistible.

Rogue, unmovable,
Dark force objects of maiden,
  .  .  .  Irresistible.

when ere sleep tries to soothe the sleepy eyes
i get the mirror from off the shelf
and start getting queerer, chasing myself
drilling thy far-out mien that no more is my guise

Alas!,emits the odd reflection,
A young woman with good intents
but needed direction

pardon my manners dear me,
i says, I've lost my taste for grace as you see
I'm no longer virtue's servant and devotee

pardon my treacherous soul that trembles like autumn's leaf
like a slice of iron between two lodestones of woe and grief

but, life waggles me up and down in ebb and flow
and nothing but moans, perfidy and malice To bestow
shall i settle for a crust of bread and a place to sleep in ?
shall i hold my tongue in pain and take a corner to weep in ?
I've been a gullible pawn in a staggering game of chess

pardon my weary soul dear me, i shall confess
not pawns who gentle but pawns who bow
nor who crown are kings  but they who blow
therein he who craves the crown full-blown,
cleaving all paths, must wrestle the burden
that dropped him down