Testo Surly Demise Shannon Wright
Try to lick these bits
Back into place
These tanks bore there wintry weight
To wake to these scraps of morn
It bears a stone
And thatâs what iâve become
These legs are built upon a surly demise
We all reach for a hand in which we will guide
Letâs sit quiet and we shall not stir
Your mouth is fragrant
And lassoing this room
And never is too long to date
Your crusty petals are prying away
Pails of cheer have become stains