to trill and,
The reveille rings at 4 o’clock.
Another day of genuflection,
to the corpulent,
Canvassing the favour of gewgaws.
Remain phlegmatic and dream of vernal shores.
An axiomatic life.
Doff the uniform,
end the strife.
I am rancorous.
Trapped in a seine,
I feel the Quahogs pain.
Supercilious they act but planarians,
Actions an aspersion of our land.
Deleterious by mine own hands.
none could succour,
burst from me.
I will not be consumptive of the puppeteers strings.
Their ways are diametric to my beliefs.
I have to leave.
Caught as I tried to escape.
Now I will indefinitely,
Told I would be divested of my head.
Supplicating for my life.
No pique for my strife.
In this hoosegow,
I will die.
A lonesome stone they lay,
tagging the interred mans grave.
Brothers mark it with his sobriquet,