whoever lives in only a world
takes a swig from buised boredom’s gourd
taunted time squashes churning chance
leers lanky lusts, tuning trance
I live in sundry worlds yet on a spot!
sometimes imaginations shelter shot
eerie empire in spiritualism as well passion
then meagre music leases mondo mansion
that when boredom plunges porous shelter
salient soles bear me to empire thither
wanky worse, mansion lures lodge
that snarling snow, rustic rain make me no pawn
build many worlds in a whooshing world
that when one sucks, other provides gourd.
’20:05:26:18:20
Note: Of damp decision.
Ancestral Trail 