The Office of the Dull-Eyed

Fling open these gates of purgatory In the sharp corner of a deserted hell to see Behold, the office of the dull-eyed in an overloaded ark Nearly concealed by a screen of dusty cobwebs This soul perching on the cliff ledge In mournful tears at merriment of grief Never in danger of falling from sheer exhaustion A pitiful victim of siren wailing unshaded tears Mingled with compassionate grief of victims A lullaby of tribute the still one can't bluff As floods of mockery roll down scaled cheeks Clogging down eyelids like an oasis of shame Refusing partnership in the merchandise of wickedness But foreseeing an approaching explosion of fake tears Patriotic beasts in custody genuinely opens up Lending out in all directions unequaled cries Which rather heightened the unmarried thoughts Of aging sapiens in their profession of pretense And poisoned their delight in the un-haste of the kill As their visual aids dilate nowhere to everywhere Dart of a towel rolled hot mucus on quivering lips With the skill a cat licks her young kittens Alienating their minds to tracing smokes From huts the aura of stewed beast emanate Even though laid mute whom could have jolt The corners of our mouths into a funny jolly grin At night, these crickets sang melodies of mockery During day, all manner of creeping, crawling things Rustled forth into the hot baking sun Aha! this grief that grips loose when huts breath smokes.