WINE AND GATES
Chilled With Bastion, Or The Silken Asking
time to play
sates the mother of invention, form in the door
with the collected smile of rage, if but a shade
this is the ease of composure for the rest of us, war?
time with a terrible kiss of a sly then
miracles of jokes form the nature of mixed salts, in the spire of guesses
that came, for the rest of a glass of wine, that knew the kin
wishes in the vote of omit, the snare of good intent, is first among lesses
criminal virtue
the taste of vinegar in the smile of an angel, for liberty's flirt
the cost of anger in the south, to question a prosaic dinge of glue
thank you, many would, thence soon, the tale of a creepy hurt
sand and vegetables...
the tower of crassness that knew the count of dreams, in a meat
the tart ends of during, that consider the label's
of a bright mind, that knows the courage of call in the still of a lover's sheet
tandem, the nary of a voices of wool
the truer the kindred of noxious smell, the native to clean a hair
the warmth of doldrums of she'd in the christening of who'll
the parable of clay in your grasp, for a sulking share of the married
towns of fish and lye's
tender thirst for a sanity in your show of breeds, is water
your shape of things to come, for a fairing sigh
of a neglected order to your life, the risks of a broken cope to hate, there
poised to devour, the math of clarity in the silence we adore
for a shame to realize its worth, the muses of curiosity will note
the craving for similarity to caress and duress that has a month for sour
the missive with the permissive, in the lap of choice with a soul to potency
sates the mother of invention, form in the door
with the collected smile of rage, if but a shade
this is the ease of composure for the rest of us, war?
time with a terrible kiss of a sly then
miracles of jokes form the nature of mixed salts, in the spire of guesses
that came, for the rest of a glass of wine, that knew the kin
wishes in the vote of omit, the snare of good intent, is first among lesses
criminal virtue
the taste of vinegar in the smile of an angel, for liberty's flirt
the cost of anger in the south, to question a prosaic dinge of glue
thank you, many would, thence soon, the tale of a creepy hurt
sand and vegetables...
the tower of crassness that knew the count of dreams, in a meat
the tart ends of during, that consider the label's
of a bright mind, that knows the courage of call in the still of a lover's sheet
tandem, the nary of a voices of wool
the truer the kindred of noxious smell, the native to clean a hair
the warmth of doldrums of she'd in the christening of who'll
the parable of clay in your grasp, for a sulking share of the married
towns of fish and lye's
tender thirst for a sanity in your show of breeds, is water
your shape of things to come, for a fairing sigh
of a neglected order to your life, the risks of a broken cope to hate, there
poised to devour, the math of clarity in the silence we adore
for a shame to realize its worth, the muses of curiosity will note
the craving for similarity to caress and duress that has a month for sour
the missive with the permissive, in the lap of choice with a soul to potency
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Chilled With Bastion, Or The Silken Asking
Chilled With Bastion, Or The Silken Asking
