My rib cage was chaste.
It is the last wine.
To be a moist chest
Won't let me opine.
Now the mermaid
Needs a mere aid.
I am cottony
In a little sea.
The end is horrid and wet.
Will I be in a gazette?
I am so selfish and alone,
A fish of the aphotic zone.
The liquid glass is insidious,
A livid mass of invidious
Ivy avidly devouring me
And all my foul tears I can not see.
