Dossier of your doings is in the ashcan of
my interiority. Smoking you was deleterious
to self-image. I strolled to and fro in my mind,
alighted from staircase of fuzzy connections.
Fanfaronade is fine but dictums can’t live it.
The rowing of ravens is shut off by soundproof
oriels. How does one seal these anechoic squeals?