a study toward sonnet #999 by FisherKingKQJ
You're not a fellow who overtly plays tough,
But I thought your money might prod vanity,
More than it has, since your skin is slightly rough,
The greying hair, crooked tooth an inanity.
I'd lift a babe out of the world's insanity,
There's a few shopsoiled yet pristine wombs,
Discount spinsters dumbed down by profanity,
Sweet youthful widows whom bad luck dooms.
You could dye your hair till gene splicing booms,
You could crown a tooth till stems cells mainstream,
You could reserve cryonic tubes as your tombs,
And pull yourself together as sweet dream.
If you turned sugardaddy, I'd still skite
Of you my old friend in lines that took flight.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 skite
o $10,000,000 brag
o $10,000,000 hype
[Autocube3 - for 3d intyeractive movies.]
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS