I said I'd be quiet but could ti be so?

THat I wring my hands gaze through horrors the smallest fibers are made of this sutt? (I meant to say Stuff but it came out as so.) It is the voice of hatred turned inward a plough and harvesting sad lonely hubris I glance over my shoulder and see Ajax Bu tit is not spirited nor fast, it's a GAS the evil necromancer might call it ..... no words You don't take poems into their mulch head, poet nor plant perfumed honeysickle, refuse the mockingbird of Poe or Plath, Why care at all if you have no Hea Heart Pronounce that Love is Love without Actions or be the moral cushion pin Tortured. So we got a little gov on this planet outdid THen why do they why do they still DO THAT OVER AND OVER AND OVER TO us we are the People. They are our Drones! Yes, that's the best they thought of our Chores . . . take me downstairs pound on a wall: WHORE You must lose your Life or your Licenses Pretty tough on the job market boom crash splat Etc. ETc. ETc.