Flopping Bywords in a Slow Rereasoning
Whose words thesaurus think I? No!
Her mouse flies in the pillage, so
She will not find me hopping near
To swatch her words flip pup willow.
Your piddly whores’ lust drinks the beer
To flop myth out a dormouse dear
Extreme the words and poison fake,
The carcass heaving in the rear.
She sieves her harlot’s shells a fake
To task, as Paris plays a stake.
The lonely mother pounds the weep
Of greasy sinned and noun-y bake.
The words spar ugly, hark and weep
But I salve pumices to seep
And smiles to woe, ignore my leap;
And smiles to woe, ignore my leap.
September 2012