Curse of Lies

Up from the fluff that pretends itself tough, Yet another hiccup puffs from a stuffed stomach, Cuckold by syrup huffed from a scruff buttock, With a flutter of luck broken by a locked handcuff. Hands tied two in the torn hooked links, Locked by the cast of a mediocre jinx. A djinn grins wide in the lamp which it’s trapped, As a rub rounds metal nigh the turban which it’s wrapped. Smoke churns thick in the swirl of its stir’s sworn demise, As a spy’s own eye cries before that which it lies. A basilisk hiss pours from portions of the dish, Pissing away the bliss of defense and hope of wish. Breath be bothered by binds before a bent decline, Of dying ‘long a spoiled spine whose blood shall cease to shine.