Gyre and Gimble in the Wabe

by fuckupboots

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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

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3 Comments

  1. Drunken poetry I assume?

    #1 godfather

  2. We put on the boots and walk around
    and make mistakes
    and find ourselves passed out
    in the gutters of our fathers
    who have grown so much
    and yet never achieved what we have
    and we dream of so much more!

    #2 happyian

  3. oi8bat0jqredbsy3

    #3 Delbert Doyle

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