there is going to be no melody I think

fur once given
shifts quasi
toward immoral
morning versus
madrigal ship
shaft global
wheatling dim
to grace
and pandered what
apparent overdraft
gives form
its bread
and indivisible
undoing margin
after motet
furious glee
kept to sides
though off-sides
adept at shouldering
the bling of
gibbous genu
flavoring
because this
room stilted
illumines vast
albeit empty
fraternist endurance
paved by pain
and savagery