dingle wordsless smoke dangling from lips of a cheilitic mind like statement jewellery passes staltered ates and pauses
crazy hazy lazy daisys inside writing epitaphs on invisible napkins with a finger and grease on the tombstone of the table like a thick modesty on historys disfigured face
dingle doesnt blench but splatters in latrines of thinking in response to the discarding i discard and without much cytogenesis or knack enters
dingles on one of those putrescent perambulations disutile scholar of decay questing drools and stricken monosyllables from vermilion borders of the vatic underclass
and staltered ates is a dingles thing temple of lump in the dumpster of out puntee in faeried ponds of thujone hippuricacid and coppersalts and never once much ken of who the punter
daisy though in the inflorescence of its wounds eyes the lugubrious oratory as a fly in kukku eyes inanna and our digging through the veils is everlasting
to the gruntings of the scuttling clientele dingle grunts them back and grunt on grunt the grunted grow the grunters and daisy spies a dingle
two lovers senching around crypts of vocational interments spurlos versenkt round sebum echoes of coital muckings striking wagers of escalating grimace
but staltered atess eyed it all afore so as dingles pitched not a grunting gets misplaced and gruntings all and all thats left is the epitaph itself to push the day
i am gone
like cyanide
to read asoft
my epitaphs
i am gone
like epitaphs
to soft a sigh
and so i died
