Crashing into balderdash where the loose cannons shoot
Lustful cloys destroys astral poise delving strident noise
As improvident viceroys drown thousand feet drunk
The compassionate advocates howl, “bastion debunked!”
Swindling the limit growing mortality rate
People take wooden nickels loving what they hate
An aweful mass hysteria surveys death with fun
While the blitheful-harmonia constructs an omen
A polymath’s aftermath on the tip of gods tongue
Then there’s fly ash, a heat flash, and Gotterdammerung!
| — | Crashing into Balderdash Tyler Morris |
Crooked
Her back is arched like an old ant. Her hands are pruned at an early age. A human vampire is skinny and heartless.
Mouth for an ear – I’m starving for people to listen because I don’t want to.
Cooperation depends a little on manipulation.
