Approaching Doom For a Bridegroom
I sense an approaching doom
A wallowing in loser’s gloom…..
In my dream, a filthy broom,
Offering to serve a filthy tomb
And now facing The Newest Womb
To suffer The Newest Bridegroom
And out of my horrified room
I zoom!
Eighteen hours now and the picture still loom
While simply wounds I lick and fume;
A sweet carnival suspending and an arranged plume.
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