You Are Labyrinthine, My Friend

This evening I am dwarfing, whether I choose or not, an ontology is not a thing that we must rely on, but you, you are labyrinthine, my friend!!

Clop, clop, narcotic, narcotic,
From the ovary until the bright stars, its shantung still remains in my satyr’s hips
I was chosen by the cynical lilt
To the ravine of antic math – we both seek for it –
You are lateral, my friend,
Strangle my weirdness, as if the love is under the basically humorous watertowers.
It is because one good drunk wants to pass as a male or be transformed into one
Through unguent, farm machinery hands.
My friend, don’t leak appetite in your persistent hipness:
Hold it, and it will be anguished and biologically yearny
Just as the whimper of morning, like a traditional indication of gender, sucks.

5 thoughts on “You Are Labyrinthine, My Friend

  1. I think I would’ve ended it

    desireth succor

    that way uoy get sire in there
    and ‘sucker’

    the contemporary demotic here
    actually comes across as preachy
    and kind of bitchy

    which is fine

    but desireth succor

    actually would seem to be
    the more ‘labyrinthine’

    feeling impressed with myself,

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