Spurn me, solemn
Arcane Trixter,
Wizen mixed wisth
Blister paper.
Tastes unmodly, purple potion
Casts the role out – swiftly motion
For the ides, the eyes a-have it!
Racaous rabbit, quiet down.
Opens door, then slowly slams it-
Burn my finger on your thumb.
Your riotous laughter speaks volumes,
Lauded high upon the columns,
The wheezing rain burst into silence
When, bouldy, you rake-up the dawn.
Howcome one overcame you, tragic?
With some pull you paint a talus.
The highness necessitates violence…
Demands it done behind a wall.
But not quite you, little shorthand,
Forefront in the bare palm.
Serve the misticks or elixir
Wilted in the front lawn.
Bears repeating, torrid scheming:
Turns eyes mother to fawn.
Locked and leaning, noxious, waiting
Enter haze with a song.
And encumbered by a thought
Of greatly voices
Built in birdhouse, holey noise,
A tune to laugh-out,
Illusory game of sleight.
Internal vessel,
Take the paint that’s lead-eds out.
Infernal nestle,
Slap away the hand that falls.
Hums 