humdrum king

he was the humdrum king of the dingerdoo nation. filled with thumbs, whose faces were a whirl of fleshy whorls.

he smashed the bits of half baked notary notions into the batter of battered remains with insolent insignificance baked into cakes.

scattered matters of gumdrop fools with insulin memories of chocolate streams. the fallen marshmallow horsemen scream.

whether more the rains to come.
ever more than the strangled daze. never more to dance under sun.
this tired sheen of past malaise.

ten by ten, tin soldiers in ink spot order, toy guns dishing spectacles of dazzling death. the king still stomps the castle grounds.

out beyond the inverse sky of blinding white with flickering specks of black, gnats that seek to pierce the veil of misery.

the humdrum king of dingerdoo, screams in soft lilting laughter. the end of an era besought with niceties and aerial poisons.

whether more the rains to come.
ever more than the strangled daze. never more to dance under sun.
this tired sheen of past malaise.

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