Whiskey, 
a pile of the brew
in tight, repristinated,
oh, wrathful hives of a cloud
the seconds of my choice will spill.

Plenty of divinity
to cross of a plain doubt
like a ransom in fertility
the echo of time will be lavish. More than extenuated.
I call the heed.

Voided prison, 
the jester runs the edges of my mind
as he controls the spiteful scene.
Before the slash of the string goes out of bounds 
enshrining urgent philosophies.

Oh, the land of hope may perish
oh, the storm of arrows may fall and peel
while the fruit of remembrance shines on
to level the meaning of my devoured queen.

With a weary yell:
"Give me your soul", the Devil said.
Like a claim to the plant of my feet.
Dilapidating my anxiety's grist
While there's a violin floating over my voice so sick.

I tell you,
these are just forbidden deals I leaked.
Part of you to lay on.
Watch this unreliable bliss.
Every piece was a stagnant eyebrow of issues that won't plead.
Part of what's an untold and primal history.

Rather than the hand of justice we reckon
scouring the tactful branch of a bittersweet parody.