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
indeed, this fate didst now beset me…
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