I have to step into another
mode....lest prosaic effort's feared
commode reason's reproach to piteous
states of rueful need and...I bleed.
Fate has not been kind to this blood clot:
man of amicable cause, me, recompensing a curse
in his vein's vanity of red rife to dispense
in a moment's caustic design as they fling
mammoth amounts of dissenting notions...
Something must be done if I can't render the
moments in hopeful portions of spewing craft,
some tidy oracular-piece of heaven for both
my pleasure and their conviction to...reality.