dare & hull, hangs a chance.
sayest gut. low felt. i’ll have.
Grim this week sent me mail;
not right been since. hurry of
ethics. i’m crying nodes, out is
as doubts the rift. we don’t talk
or walk on the same pavements,
not now. rather taut. expect less
in poetics, out dull our gifts. are
& now, sad for the resists. soft &
sift, greying chance snaps lead tall
the hand mistook, little snip i’m
battled, at the trebuchet & doubting
hard’s a grapple. wishing in process
that Grim would love me again. in
making his story history i meant
valour only & yet, growl, lad’s wrong,
is stumbling the cock. new ton is
a pressing. after this i’ll hold his
hoof, will caress his less your.
Oh Grim! my champion, gutted!
Oh Grim! my rutting dampened one!
Oh Grimly goes a surl, surf dreamy
girl a whirl a turn a burly a a a you are done!