in essence, the presence of mind is such
to find in this old heart
a fair-bloomed side and circumstance,
which trundles out so smart:
winsome wench waxing wicked with
which worn willies wiggle,
gaping glorious, glowing, growing,
gusty gladsome giggle!

silly boy! how now in moment
somber semiprecious
might thee inquire so callously?
so bland and rankly fresh? just
mollify thine spirit, son, and let
thine itching twitch
soften and dangle at some lesser angle;
but from this idea comes a glitch.

the fly in the pudding that
spoils the dessert, undoubtedly came
from some spot
from whence the delights of the heart
must be such to engender a blackening blot:
of unspeakable woes; innocence deep in
throes, tortured by demons unfeeling.
the mystery man has his ultimate plan,
riddled, and shaken, and reeling.

for that bug, dost thou see,
was resistance to thee and his
plan was to clutch to his freedom.
‘til, of course dost thou know,
he was shocked head to toe by thy
style, smile, and guile. did he see them
sneak up and take hold of his heart
and his soul? did he stop and resist?
did he scream?

no he merely unwound from the tough
chains that bound him, and started,
all over, to dream.