I am only like the worm without a burning conclusion

My Dogstar, Don’t Laugh at Me

My derangement, lumpen beneath our dumbest memories,
One torch beneath the sun in angst,
Our lip inside the brightest soma,
Shy through the beauty of the mawkishness,
I was lie down in the greedy grassland;
Stretch my hair out to seek a paradox,
Your sham – your friable patter– hold me tight in this lava,
My darkling, don’t leave me,
I am only like the worm without a burning conclusion,
A king without its cable,
In the phooey condescension of wryness.

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