Doltish

His thoughts a noose round the neck That betrays progress into better ray, Prisoner self-chained to surreal wreck Of diamond burdens beyond their say. His pulses another swift drift away From lanes of wit and clear sense; Obstinate caudal slip in weird sway Toward gaols well inevitable hence. His bias-bankrupted soul's whims Far defy practicality and her gists; Tagging kettle black as old pot dims In his eyes its erst death-dark twists. His lobe preened to nab things null, Throbs to tap vocular waves vacant As shards of a myths-neutered skull; More void and louder than airs want. And his appetites stirred wild like tides Over tempestuous seas wayward spill; Milk's cream along filthy paths guides, Honey's decoys his glances snare still.