An Irregular Evening Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

Oh my careless indecency,
You've cost me more than planned.
Forsaken are the methods I once employed,
In order to appease the legitimacy of structure.
Perhaps, if arranged as an epitaph

I've clicked my heels,
But I'm still not home yet.
In fact, I'm everything but.

No that surely won't do,
The effeminate allusion to dear old D,
Only manages to further obfuscate the point.
I've got a contortionist for a heart,
And a ceaseless grinding in my head.
Another pointless move brings me closer to forfeit,
And these gasping wounds spew life like geysers.
Faithfully departing from average delineation,
And left to limn my most favorite lies a fortiori.