I'm nausesous, or maybe just inspired
So truthful, I begin to tire,
No less then everything.
No haiku, no paper packaged thing,
Patronized you harmonize, a thorax rattles so,
Like idealistic jargon every self-respecting hopeful should to know.
I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever
Sympathy I do indeed intake in bulk amounts,
For reasoning obscure it seems to numerous to count,
And so it goes the leser chose to crawl through narrow gates,
Bulimic thin the winding road now emptires into lakes,
A pulse is found, and so we drown, and sing for this duration,
From rows and rows of teeth we're spared, these artery serrations.
Emptiness I must impress upon you in it's granger,
My stagnant heart, it comes apart, as selfishness demands her,
To sound a note from scores I wrote,
And offer them unto thee,
For melodies now synthesized, Your love it lives within me.