Stupid, the fit, the rag wriggle minim op
perfection by possession, game to rev thru
all yer time as twisted desire types
flow chert at cave entrance a bat exit
to tone up squeal rhomboid fakery
lack, almost in singin’ cringe time.
So keep going lag ripple
you won’t catch me out in the poetic
field, burning a prose grass to amass
evidence: long import safety regs,
at a spiffy kinda distance, drub.
Link, unlink; overlink. Like ...
more exceptions finagle
a little glitch or
the back part of informo
de-veined like the
pair a’ dice