The reset of vitro pill not eventually abashed becomes full thrown in the instances of Compromise.
Will the unlatching waves cross against the veered glimmer from the setting sun; blings, Recoups the dispatch loss dashing from the Held lighthouse, rock surround of rigor mortis Digital? Sand, and riddle to perforation?
Any lesson taught, fenced by the tightrope Wisp, lovingly and et cetera, washes tenure. Ionic metope, disclosure and Dorian euphony Will scramble to attach themselves, spurred by A thousand eyes, glow wormed and digesting.
Pauses graft the impertinent poem. Pound’s Metro gives me the color of moment; Lightening through rain, or perhaps, In rain. If a shade like that existed The pains, oh the weary pains to explain.
Thirteen chariots run along the grain of a fence They become molasses before they reach a sense Of satisfaction, completion to the next knob-post. Drivers slow, now, hoof and wheel now at coast And if you look there is one who is caped He stands out amongst the others chafed By their determination and will to Make each their condemned damned pursuit The next knob-post always in sight. He is caped and it flows always behind
Why regret, of all hours, to race with the rest? The cape, choking, when at the best It never belonged?
Sweated Bastille of lights No lapse in senses only When the men drift off into Keno, Unto neon curves While their drinks sink then drip upon the pocked bar.
Lack love emphatics, they grumble The domestic valley girls stumble Along lines that might knit Their words in chosen appropriate for occasion. Will they meet… How not? Their languages stitch The seams.
So in that case, lovers, there is wonderful Tangents. I do see it and smile. And being bold, I bow out and Blow the bubbles of neon through glass straws. Draw up numbers and toss them. Hug you all and watch my mirror make eyes at me.
Bio: My name is Joseph Elenbaas. I am a degenerate of suspicion and the world is a suspect. This is our nonce and trajectory, all of us. lets get willy-nilly.