scissored spritzer

take care, should ye wend to tend the vacuum
yond the twilight’s summon

for what one cannot foresee
may soon become thy vengeful hegemon

plotting wicked wrath
upon thy vial of coveted elixir

once, a promise
of somatic sanctuary
spurned to whisker

by the fretful fate
doled out by trimmers
of a phantom wielding

triggered by an arbitrary elbow
of capricious yielding

rendering sadistic shears
descending to a dreadful plummet

poised upon the nigh impending aperture
of fitful flummox

sparing not thy sparkling nectar
fraught now, since did clothe said contents

writhing in the tacky toils
of self-induced syrup-borne laments

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