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my son the liar
Lucid escharioat, called to empathy unawares
of life and liberty, in despair... for resting in the halls of amenti
'was the caressed
buried in clamb of jealous entry
deep beneath the pale moonlight
the devil danced to softer plight
the horde conspired to revile
the substance quoted from the vial
an darkened corset drawn with satin
freed beneath the mantle saturn
to neptune's lasting eternal glow
a hue of grey and suffered woe
don't unleash the empire's greatest secret
the cold spirits hands gently keep it
with succor sweet and root resign
aloof yet labored in the mind
each step grew closer a lasting sentence
of guilt and sufferage of their penance
for lost within the frame of time
was open source directive mine
we used to live here said the hatter
fixed on the circumference of the birth scales crown
the laughter now a growing sound
the fiorde now covered with the blood
from all the soldiers growing love
they could not reckon or relate
why time itself it suffered fate
each moment passing not in a line
but crooken halter rhubarb twine
of jagged darts and entrails arts
bafoffel vomit grimace starch
grafoffel helter accolade
desparis vexis tremble weight
no don't tell us
write a chapter on the bus
each child relayed a piece of thread in vines
of rusty nails and hempen twines
caught round the neck of latin craze
venetian summer in the weighs
do laughter, life, and spirit weigh
or does the detail seem to say
that people knowing why they hate
just disappear into the lake
