Wilyem Clark
08-25-2016, 10:18 AM
I could go on in this vain vein forever,
But talk does not alter defective manners,
The fundamentals that drive us apart.
The numbers game is hardly a game,
For neither side wins; perpetual draws
Stale mate after mate, and stymie the players.
Frustration is, ironically,
A source of inspiration,
As anti-throes of love throw one
Deep into the derelict depths (that mirror
The lace-and-velvet passionate heights),
Where Eros snit-fittingly flits about,
Banging his head against the bulkheads,
Spraying his cupiscent, amorous juices
All over the place.
But talk does not alter defective manners,
The fundamentals that drive us apart.
The numbers game is hardly a game,
For neither side wins; perpetual draws
Stale mate after mate, and stymie the players.
Frustration is, ironically,
A source of inspiration,
As anti-throes of love throw one
Deep into the derelict depths (that mirror
The lace-and-velvet passionate heights),
Where Eros snit-fittingly flits about,
Banging his head against the bulkheads,
Spraying his cupiscent, amorous juices
All over the place.