3/5/13 11:20am
what words excite your alibis?
what tools unleash your flesh?
what thoughts invoke such harmony
between your brain and breast?

such harmony, in truth, corrupt
as brains and buffers go,
lets fall the wretched parapets,
their rooftops lined with snow.

so brave the souls of merry men
that spy upon your hair.
but do you keep it kempt for them
or for your maidens faire?