A Red Minute

Whilst a medley of us lied upon the flocculent canvas An ever so comely sound had been shaped of the void ‘Twas the sharp sound of supremacy coming to pass Though honored am I to speak Upon the sweltering passion ‘Twas an invitation like none before Scourging these bones of the dark Of which they habitually drink The quaking quite mollifyingly Renders a sense of solidarity To unfathomable tribulation