Friday, November 6, 2015


Present and Correct

"God put this head of mine at rest towards romance,
For tis' neither worth the tyne, nor tears.

Insular environments might be up top,
From this heaven with which we three have wrought,

[Having been neither sold nor bought,
I've already reaped heart's sprout of unordered crop,]

Cravings are content,
Precedence we've got to invent "

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