/lit/ - Literature

He retained but many certainties,
Ingesting the many silver foils
of his petite, delicious desires...

Why, in sooth, his tongue of peripatetic range
passed over generations of urinated seas
and remained upon weak seldom, upon careful rhapsody...

He had digested such fascinating lore;
It promises his folly certainly ceases never-more.

However, he has since sought a proper isle.
Developed, detailed with such buoyant brethren,
whom he cannot playfully retaliate.
And, perhaps, this adjustment based to the foundation
of illusions suggesting sweet anticipation
dominate his personal, political proclamations.

Thus his fluids had condensed, he presents under a reign,
commanded to recite his future haste
to what lakes of otherworld waste
he shall kneel in tedious history with.

His petite, delicious desire now melts
with hollow progression portraying what he felt...