It
comes with a price, a random axe, fraught with chaos. It’s
fully
self-conscious, a tropic mix, moonlit with tears. I smile
and
pause, searching foibles, and counting demons. It
probes
a dungeon, a black hawk, gnawing bones. Every pleat,
a
feat for sadness, to live as a robot. So ever we smile, found
in
laughter, displaying a ghost. Hell is tickled, to witness
laughter,
but give us a name. I’m spent for spells, a quasi-sage,
stuck
at a stop sign. I was born of fire, ever a young ghost,
tripping
into laughter; and what more, a devilish streak,
strong
through a wind. There’s a keel, torn for hearts, asking
for
names. So deep a vista, an imp is laughing, more to
condemn
laughter; but must for laughs, buried in pains, where
psyches
churn. I live it conscious, a laugh for tears, a tear for
laughs.
One
may cringe, to witness such rain, discovered in mishaps.
Hear
for wild, ever a thought, captured in whispers. Our
inmost
love, to drive a soul, lost in wines and laughter; but
reckon
softly, to live a life, a coffin for laughter. Otherwise,
laugh to perish, to perish to laugh, geared for
struggles.
