Tor, truth be as tight as the root of the tongue be as fixed in the buccal:
Ever loosed to twist twixt the tests of the teeth and the lips to phone
Still, just as the linen stripes beneath our feet be e'er hidden
So in similitude goes the senseless narrative why our tongues
suddenly come on and go out to grow beneath our feet how?
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The truths keep being muddled up in the mud when raised
as the mouth which be
intended for speech suddenly selfishly consciously waggle
the scripts of the tongue to tell the truth as façade's flow.
As such our worlds as aright as they align be blurry inversions in exactness
The cross of course of our course is in loss in gross by false in force
All which thus be actually correct become tagged as reject
'When fires' creamy smokes come, as in ejects, creamy woolly cumulus
Sputter of cinematic rains will only pelt then not the wetting water which we 'wait.'
©2019 Jodekss Gloatkenf
Hello, I am Jodekss Gloatkenf --my penname. I am a professional writer, ghostwriter, researcher, editor, blogger, podcaster, artist, thinker and lightworker. I believe in creativeness, diversity and uniqueness --my definition of art.
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