Wastin Time Poem by Elude Most

Wotchin this mirowin refection it’s a direct desendent of I fear in I depend on,
Spillin worter words to sallow out the deepend from,
The 4goten botem of memerys corner rememberin to record but the memerys all ways short,
I cant help but purse n this coruse soon shorts curcits with no self aplurse,
No 1 els makes a sound except thes 4 creeks in thes 4 floor bords,
Surrounded by walls n celins it gets less apealin wen u feel like ur conected by cords,
All ways pullin u bak all ways walkin on the trap door that pulls out ur consushness,
leven u norshus n berly conshus, n more with this word spinin,
Its hard to detect the leck of breth that keeps escaping into my chest,
Exspandin colonies of deth, in the long turm afect,
I subject to trainin my neck to pik up my hed but I cant get out of bed,
Instead I drell in sowow all ways follow tomorrow,
to poor to skink To the botem of the botle,
Berly aford to bleed ink.