Cupidity, Confabulation and Their Cosy Custody of Crime Royal

His point-blank, most promising laurel lost Long, long his e'er-lasting longing lingers His muse becomes bedridden under freezy frost Yet his nikhedonic mindscape ne'er malingers Surging from mood's winters and merging its splinters Ramrodding illusion-edified effulgences into his emulous edacity Without knowing whether with reluctance or with alacrity