Gyre and Gimble in the Wabe

by fuckupboots

complementing thrice just won’t suffice

it’s not as nice as vincent price

whose noise of voice ran

short of torte and south of port

Lay my thoughts where I lie, but don’t let me die. I’ll just gyre and gimble in the wabe. Don me my boots, I’m much to flay’d

to do it myself

mind you, the fuck-up-boots

i’ll need them soon