I don't want to understand this. I want to forget.
So let me shut up my penmanship with a frivolous tom
I'm separating from the spindle I'm not: the artistry
Mounted on far something my heart eschew. Such despised routes
Stabs through sentient rocks and statues. Its flake falling bod
Darts for heaven footfalls in hell's darkened corners where
Charlatans sit wearing their obnoxious masks trying to imitate the rainbow rub to fit
In a mood they use to have once. Pouring them an infinite shine.
And they know, many can tell, many,who -- said,' Don't lose it.Keep it in a jar.'
Many, who, didn't realise, were so far-off from cartoony eyes
To tell the hell dimwits go after acting in the tennis court.
(The audience should forget this and applause in that white night
For the party I bring. The best party I bring with all my superlove
Which is said to never suffice
And, when I was in love with Tresdin, it was ever.
But, the thing he did, I could've never)
