Recondite
Defunctive smoke
From the brain
Rankles the soul:
An eternity of ignorance.
There are no marrams for skin.
Marquetry of bones
Intricacy assumes
Hoodwinking eyes
That see only nudes.
Whining gin.
Phthisic mind
Transhumanizes darkness
Swaddling rain
In a hollow pearl.
Aperient paraffin.
Happiness now:
Being straddled in the sun,
Juvescence:
Fustigating the sea.
It’s win win win.
Inside the gall bladder,
The unstilted oyster
Is condited:
Redundant sud.
Quite self-akin.
Concite the hymns of Satan
If you find yourself perjured,
Faith is more recondite
Than delirium.
Terribly consanguine.
Win win win!
There are no marrams for skin!
-Pin Dew (01/05/2017)
Copyright © Pin Dew | Year Posted 2017
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