miercuri, 6 mai 2015

Concerned in liquor

It be a contraption of me own,
Concerned in liquor.
Now that be fitting!
In oddgaits and unbeknownst place,
Under the laylock awhile,
I unforboden lash and pent
The muse that twits
And me soul and quill spills.
I must over heaven’s abyss
And heal up in shrouds of verses.
Atween timeless avick
Us be tight as recolects be lonesome and utchy.