holytoastr | meLiSSa's been playing with the magnetic poetry....

do ask her how my missive expatiated.
they like pithy platitude.
with our Kafkaesque pedagogue, we languish in the banal ideas she secretes.
i fusillated that obsequious miscreant.
methinks o'er yonder is a foul wench.
alas, strike your vulgar manner, lest i dream of woe.
never curse a fair friend or poinson his lady.
aye, i envy thee when you vow nothing.
if it were up to me, perchance we would speak mercy and ne'er use wanton torment.
winter hath my fortune. damn him.
beseech our grace ere my death hastes.
she doth deceive her lorship with wicked jests.
herein, please woo the maiden and forswear this seemly man.
seek merry light, nay melancholy night.
thou bestow thy goblet to a vile drunkard.
come hither, mortal, and have every farwell where there naught be.
yon villian has let you wilt in thine discontent almost too lovingly.
yield by all mischance'd and ask are they well.
question that woman about who will see myself as thus.
a sausage let go the gorgeous moment they worshipped.
when my dreams shine, a light is purple beautu and the moon sings like honey.
for the goddess, i'd run like frantic blue mist.
when did music live for her worship?