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Mourners in face of corrosion
Yearning for tastes of erosion
Gone for six painful years
Retreating from lying ears
Angry at what seems last
No one escapes that past
Drag deep, dark dram, man
Mysterious this master-plan:
Armenian antiquities stick with me

Say only what you want me
Made solely for you: horny
Everything solely, lonely
Living in a prison devoid of wisdom
Trust my inner schisms

Operator, connect me with an equal
Failure imbued throughout the sequel
Practically all these people, weevils
Ergonomics help the hands
Ergo this wordplay perhaps

Reverend AntinormalitÓ

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The following comments are for "A Cross Tic"
by Thetesticularprancer

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