Touched

Sordid. This trap shut of mine. Nye grace.

Nye brethren spirit. Contempt for silly ego

It groggles and garbots, Shanks and spurts;

To such extent Molly coddle sends complaint.

Rage is pitiful compared, Devilry? A playful spat.

That cat eye look intense To this mouth as such

A barbed catch; A hook, an echo of this throat.

Turn the ears, clamp tight this vibe

You must never permit this diatribe

For once touched By this devils spit

Another scribe must heal thee.