Critical Mass

This chalice I hold
is half or full you see,

a glitz of
intricate pietism.

Swaying by forensic
a caustic pulse-beat

foot-printed through
the sands of odium,

broken willows
dangle and drape
cloaking this meglamaniac
blinded by pang,

a clubby satellite
dusted with disrelish.

Gallantly jousting
and shadow boxing
foggy djinni's,

manifested by the world
or how he sees it.

Tit pro tat treacherous
thief of abberant chicanery,

a plethora of anvil chorus  
I piled from thee.

Run with me,
behind the sable ebb,

howl locus the wolves of
crimson sass to shine.

Chestnut the stipulations
invigorate hypertension
stagnant resurrection
copulated transgressions,

come paroxysm
my aura is visceral.

Torpidly my vessel
has nay left port
I wilt to the caliber
of my cineral drum.

Critical mass
is a sphinx,

waiting ergo the
sole round in the chamber
to spring my
sacrosanct timber,

to elope yonder
the surly boundaries
to samba with deific nemesis.

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