Can I Sing?

If i just lift my lips, 

Wipe away the sweat and gack, 

Prise those blistered petals, 

Thorns and all, 


And bid myself depart, 

Not upon a shrilling birdcall, 

But a wuthering gawp, 

Thread the depths, 

Of an artificially endowed tune, 

Embroidered now with a personal touch, 

A silver lining so to say, 

It should be much better, 

Than cerebral icicles, 

And unprisable mouths of mollusks, 

The ethereal resides in the air anyway, 

So I’ll just limp leisurely in my pleasure. 


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