Reader? Comments

Reader?

You can do a wondrously wonderful poem
Wonderfully winding in the poetic wind, winding, finding it grinding, binding and extending its whole worth over the world. Its woolworth in the cold. Called and sold in the folds of your mould. The whole world enthralled in the workings of its metaphors, the imaginery, images emerging, merging in the verges of your Shakespearean subconcious. That your organic antennaic protrusion resplendent in your crannial medulla oblaganta. Nay, you can rise with the prose to great heights. You can mourn, sob, wail and fail to control your emotion, Lord! ..the commotion in the locomotion in your location.
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