and it's in the dark,
but with the spark we can wall off like a plaster of farce,
any indecent start,
with incandescent sprawl to remark.
As if it were all the placated thing that does the hard lard-
I never needed but grew to embark!
Outcasts spell me neededly' as I see whats seething-rot with grease on things.
I'm pleading eagerly,
for the right stage for the print of my priest-
but wonder allowed if i'll have to keep repeating and easily wondering about the joggy' facts,
the eccentricity of my real badge-
the maps toggling themselves to distance innumerably far from my wrangler in park,
and the truth that's so dark.
Copyright © Jimmi Canada | Year Posted 2018
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