Riding Fantasy

Walking through the melancholy gates. I came across deep sentient states. I being, a soul of harbour being. Thy toiling slumber or in seeing. I waking up to the vacant dream. Thy making through by a scream. I rising to the laden cream n cafe. Thy having it all in a scorn farce. I rising to a beam in a jiff aloof. Thy dusting corpus be by cuff. I carass a tinge of prime repute. Thy slew a rope to tie with rebuke. All this being a think to thought. Can't just be humans, all apart.

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