Automatic poem. 5am, April 1, 2014. Too dark to see the paper I was writing on. This is the raw version.
A glimmer, a grimace
Sideward bound and unafraid
Marsh movements
Deliver me slow
Slow as you like it
Other bothersome tribunals
Tributaries of boredom
No more intercessions
Memory dump complete
Would the ancient birds understand their descendants' songs?
There is always pain
Panic magic
Too early to drive
Skulls drip dry
In rank humour
Screw as you like it
Use washers to avoid issues of shake
Develop scales
Stale bread can still be useful
Don't do it again, bozo
Clean the mirrors
Filleting time
Always have someone to blame
Notice all possible exits
Be the dance
Record yourself
Regard yourself
Disregard your self
Know that the game is always skewed
Forget regret
If you cannot be right, be massive
Virtue is bunk
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