Some poetry before I go to sleep.

Her incisive words

Out of her inclement tongue

Quibbles the dunce king

To be written at the back of my queer purple index card. A requirement for Eng 11.

What makes you special?

Unlike most inhabitants of the estrogen world, I am not at all into chick-flicks and romantic poetry. Hence, I like to watch gory movies and I am secretly in-love with the drunkard Poe. If I had one of those nifty Little Miss shirts, it would probably read "Little Miss Frustrated". I am a frustrated drummer, a more frustrated singer, and an even more frustrated dancer. (Bummer, I know.) I am an atypical, I am eccentric, and I want to be a legend.

Behold, the gauche coquette!

Atop an ersatz millieu,

Where the salacious mood is set.

Behold, the gauche coquette!

Her grandiloquence causes fret

Fainting in profusion, adieu!

Behold the gauche coquette!

Atop an ersatz millieu.

I was flagrantly disheartnened

By the brute midnight downpour.

I covered my diffident ears

As the drizzle hits crescendo.

I took my vapid toungue

To taste the virulent rain.

But, I marveled with such rapture

Of the prodigious sugary lavish.

I clamoured along and frisked

In the shower's great exultance.

I subdued my inner frolic

Owing it to the hindering rain

As I was inherently gulled

By my austere prerogative.

I hoodwinked my skittish self

And layed on my tepid sheets.

Anaphylactic

The maudlin jaunt begins
On May's auriferous ides

As the altruistic boat of passion
Sets off on jargoned tides

A saccharine departure, indeed
Of blathering tyros alike

Both impetuous genteel pilgrims
Feigned wamth on a stoic sike

The corrigible sail continues
Along a dark frigid night

And the cavernous pair dances
Amidst an ending sorry plight