Decimals.

Good evening, you daily binge,

I'm toasted, roasting your fellow synonyms,

chewing skin off naked limbs,

sufficient whims commingled with nutrients.

Regarding me, won't you indulge?

Prithee! go dissolve a wicked gin,

for rum wouldn't fit your argument..

howbeit could, peradventure circumvent.

Now history methinks, is an unnecessary swagger,

its a dagger that matters too well in whisper,

perhaps a spear might rustle mire fine,

ifsoever, whistling these sentences aside.

Aye, she overwhelms naive speech,

therewithal, our clueless words are terse,

its their verse which nurses a degree,

me - swigging usquebauch,

she rustling, in one cups' merry.

Collar.

Pepper pigeons, 'cross the windowsill

'neath the shallow cries, of cigarettes,

of playful synonyms.

Them, the wind scolds,

she reprimands impatience,

murdering writer's delight,

in wisdom - its seldom vengeance.

Her tiptoe to their temper, teasing;

deriding these wicked rhymes,

acute in perspective, conscience slaying mine.

Have they soared away?

In diffidence, they always did,

mocking gratis admiration,

in a way these hands have bled.

Strain.

Would you take me by surprise?

any morning, alongside sunrise.

Or would you rather wither, like conifer

stepping on my toes, your moniker.

I'm unable yet, you know,

a cactus in making, slow and marrow,

for morose is drunken delight,

biscuits in maple syrup - an erudite.

Now aren't I dipped in melancholy too?

As animation, meant to be construed,

we eschew upon these frozen foods,

each for the taking, equally subdued.

Slowly, we'll melt - in chorus, misspelt;

painting viscous with gratitude,

as impatience begs to please your whims,

winter beckons - rude, equally grim.

Therefore, we simmer away,

weathering the armor - subtly pique'd,

with rain sashaying away at my sleeves,

your bones submitting, us naive.

Visage.

Fingers fiddle, huddled in slow drizzle,
selfish rain! muffled in frozen frames;
the hands, overcoming cognizance,
with a mackerel sky, subdued in dampen.

For raindrops are testimony to these eyes,
of what would've been a beaming sun;
retreating par the eagle's nest
weakened, amenable to unlearn.

It isn't deluge that stops us short,
serving volleys, which often disagree.
Its an indignant weight, a parrot's bait
while those digits immersed - evaporate.

Stairs.

The tint's pale, every morning's drill;

inasmuch as she's concerned?

Ruing hands 'ave killed, day-spring's thrill,

what's left to be unlearnt?

Lots! Teach this naive rat nice,

don't let spill the poison;

for in tepid summers, it eats weather thin,

slicing within her hamstring.

Now he won't relent, her will to win,

broken in their vacuous themes;

a means to wither hopeless clutter,

its her efficacious whims, screaming.

Evening disquiet, disarray climbs us down,

canvassing the miserable watercolor gray.

A frame still lays, unequally smeared in skin,

and charcoal slaying mutual chagrin.

Aver.

You're improperly dressed for tonight,

while those appropriate, are blessed,

leaving an unclean palm to cerise this throat,

blue mornings, in ribbons of pink sunset.

Aren't they're helpless too, when running down?

Our pride, ego of a semi dead clown;

an efficacious whim, to bury within -

Hello, Aunt Sally, did you stop listenin'?

Their tone isn't resilient, it couldn't be - oh not tonight,

for wicked isn't an opinion,

its certainly a sense, of humor at best,

or the usual mule - a dissenting minion.

They claim our 'coterie', if I may be allowed,

is vacuous, at best cretinous,

but the plate's are thin, content within,

as the ichor quietly pales - avers and diminishes.

We were bits, and shall stay wisps,

confined to a floor of broken glass;

while the thick shall win, make merry the weekend,

and we shall crumble, revering their sentiment.

Nor to wish they'd railroad,

funnily, neither do we soak in peace.

Come ballot day, a tissue inside might die a week,

and when they revel, this dismal,

we'll concede.

Gin.

Circus, as we nurse ourselves nice,

arising early sun, quarter past five,

perhaps sliced to be precise,

nigh to opulence, an inch to her thighs.

Here resides a suddenness to disconcert,

skin pales, flesh rustles in flirt.

Chaste! effort scuttles - a somber, troubling grin,

ameliorating ache, crumbling within.

Wherein death warms the trade first,

truckin' misgivings and trafficking thirst,

tinting penchant for ridiculing his snare,

a caramels' delight frost amongst smug eclairs.