OIL SINK
Ink I've reduced to it, bang up burglar, eh?
Eh? Can women withstand it.
"I think, every time a look at the photocopy goes over and sees
Which words not to use, and takes it. Like, thale-cress or bag-of-oysters."
See, I think, a chain link fence,
That every time I do I'm so into getting a glimpse of it
And it's pretty fucking disgusting.
Found cashews in it, but couldn't cut out their eyes,
Now going to the bedroom for hearing of the maze.
"Upset valves," in these English values?
"Stairwells sink after them," right through the corner,
"As they climb stairways," after the stairways they climb,
Meaning, "to gather together," without knowing what. Syllables.
One of the benefits of uncleansed printing is that we nail up papers streaked with oil,
Having upset a canister covered with valves at press.
Glowing, yikes, exercises in underpants,
Spilling oil on the staircase.
Let's see
A burglar caught in a chain link fence.
Concerned with values, presenting uncleansed underpants,
Under valves spilling oil, the list goes on,
Ellipsis, fishnet, squealing ... needs oil.
I really like oil, but I'm mad about it
Because the last bottle I got, when I went to screw the cap down on it,
I screwed it down too hard, and the soft plastic seal broke.
So now I have to screw it down just so far.
But I think it's beginning to spoil.