Minuscule Panic

 
Get ready to panic
Ignore what they say, got to get there every way

There’s no tune from a bottomless pit, aren’t they all bursting to fit the pit?

Fight the fat and chew honeysuckle dried due from the pits of desiccated otter’s eyes, scream into their ears for just one sentence of a rhetorical steel-coned brushing in repayment

Have you heard from a cave that we break down in our bounds of self-persevering honorarium?

Flatulence is king here, won’t you lend me an ear?

Disjointed gibberish leads to rubbish but I love it when I’m weary of caffeine driven folly, so jolly I want to dry my weather-worn skin on the hearth of a digital lambent

Crying is the best mess for building ecliptically ponderous windows of whining and now I’m settling down to what’s beneath the stars and dining

Oh Mommy, great Tsar, won’t you come out to play? I haven’t had it any other way

We’re experimenting in laughter, retraining thought I bet you didn’t notice the claw and tooth so sleuthed against the grain

Driven and dribbling its scratches all over the damned floor

Poor mess, ingest and repeat prescription won’t you climb the castle of folly ad-nauseum?

Flirting with the fecundity of a minuscule panic indeed

In greed

Ugh