sonnet #2

you perky cruft. You pinky throwaway
beseech my glory. Do me what I say
quit billowing on pretty. Enigmate
in no arrangement am I made to mate

at times bereft of idiocy. I
continue to bleed. I slide awry
me briny brawls attune and attest
as I montaigne in pure memetic zest

see. I am drenched in cascadian slush
all hops fade out. I (slash) meek to push
you keep forgetting. I keep getting for
unopened we returned to the store

just aqua — aether — tickling. Just a time
in which — if you are only — what am I

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