Plumes In Rooms

Counting hours like chickens      waiting to get fried until my last pressures get      properly denied by that amnestic ruckus      compelling my stride. My revelry extracts your      most suspicious eye while I collect brains like I'm      Professor Magpie instructing the planet on      how it ought to fly. You wafted off on that cloud      propelling my pride until I cried at that thick      storm brewing outside lamenting that lonely gust      when our essence died.