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Untimed In Essence, An Often Intern |
Metronome, methadone, left all alone. It's a curse. Nothing worse than one dumb phone or some smart cat saddled with thick heart fat. Where's your bear's fair share anyway? Not there, nowhere, not that they care. It's rare how that stacked fact, attacked and hacked, hid unaware. The starred sky, a marred lie, all somehow died before we saw bright pups light up outside. One shot, boom! Some hot gloom, exorbitant, sung not whom cried, "What doom?" Extravagant flashes of lashes past remind refined folks who choked yolks once refused and declined. No matter the time, who flattered the fined? We waited, sated them 'til they reclined. Height of nightfall, sighted blight lawlessness, rites to fight tall, might can't light formlessness. Exploded through desire, higher rose fire, complicating, imitating our woes, life's dire. An age of staged rage to inspire those foes whose hose grew when they knew who knows where we were, who we were, and how we breathed. The longer we fought, the harder they seethed. All who don't believe brethren bred from sea get left bereft to grieve deaf infancy. Sand-papered carpet, bare blood-soaked soles, soiled land-flavored parchment, spare uncloaked rolls. Boiled deep in a tar pit. It's a bit impure. Twisted mystics, slipped fists, broken clipped wrists. Those sad gits sat in fits and bit the lure. On and on it went 'til we burned their lists. Then it ended, and you can't mend it, friend. Don't dream of gleaming beams their void may send. |