Sunday, November 21, 2010

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.

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