Pretense

Nah

If a writing be indeed

More eye

Than a semblant pair

Of red eye turpentines

Then I, chalance

Profess to modern air 

Nay

My tears won't gentle

So call out

Tis indeed tumultuous 

There to prick me

Open

It honestly seems to be the weary case, how we project some layered quarry of sought out allure perhaps thermats to the politics, how vacant they crouch, under laments of truth, so it be stranded, allay from the dynamic intuitions we all gather, bark and loud, surp on every anger tree, very well they do,

    

For tis blest, even believed 

That we chortle a mile wiser

Than jest ankle

Perhaps no, we make it some sense

Of Nokia love, no?

Or the electrics, they rash and rash,

Of corrupt meagre greed, tis all pretense

    

No just no,

Politics are riptide,

Wager of the mind ode, sometimes I look at you

Aching eye,

North heart pitching

And north and heart and pitch

   

Nay, 

Indeed, if all of us, 

Earnst a naked heart

Look onto every time

Rita splitting, rita a tongue of sordid swail

Now look diamond 

In all pretense 

Wear the angel dream, fairest, of em, that runs and runs, hailing the fulfilled good

So gaze

Supa Einsatz

It's there, now they quake

  

“Heards, but ain't all good much very, mail pretense

 We don't speak of the cherry in Sue

 Or the laying shadows that pull promptly by part in swift bits of sugar

Oswald hands

 Nay, it's just our ugly eyes you know, from where we get this intensity, this evangelicals brooding of perplex, see in nights, octane sips of your inkfuls, we just really can't help but bow in musing decadents, sure we all know it, and the one, who crawls the ever sentient sky, there won't a man, so more worthy of love"

Author's Note

Fun...