Twisted Sister Poem by James McLain

Twisted is the way of words at war
having none to many knickers.
Pleasurable manta of ardor winds
rooms bed wedged together lent.
Blind white noise orifices fumes
since first we bathed on the lake
forgetfulness uncanny her shore.
Grouping minds wanting treasured
friends holding hands relenting not
brother who is depf at nothing true
faking every thing noise expected.
Tied to the bed by a Sister Twisted.

) it(s..is..magic
you..know...

) it(s..written..in the..
chalk..of..) it(....your...
twisted...face...