Sitting still, dreams whirring.
Thoughts are slurring, the ceiling is gay.
The happiest ceiling, in dismay.
Dark clouds form upon the horizon, stark fears give way to everlasting wonders.
A man in his folly, either jolly fool or witness to his blunders.
Ripe, prime, fresh, primordial soup. Fresh for the taking, mold to their desires, his ordinal coup.
Master stroke now finished, faster it is broke.
Harold, only typo and autocorrects prophecy.
Far old are times of greatness, now lies shallow odyssey.
Something something, something rhymes. Strange crimes.
In the veil one peeps, now retired, my dick goes in a blender.