As in my remembrance

Kinley! Eh! Kinley in ye cacophony of my mind now, so oft art thou not a resident in this labyrinth I own, but visitor art thee now. Must tell I afore 'tis engulfed in evasiveness - me desire I devour - how is it nearly malice preach I in myself for thee sometimes. My refrain pricks me now me dear! and despise I an address that beguiles. Is is time is this paving sought by ye feet of mine, 'tis so time and so time now that find I myself in such contrary obedience. Art there contusions bear I still on ye skin of my palm, and is a spectacle so likely to conjure on this back of my very skin I wear - 'tis the skin of an animal, and alack! how it scratches itself.

Juxtapose I myself, this window with panes so grubby, beheld some child's eyes through, holds curtains of such lethargy; nay! canopy of beauty is not in sight for me yet, abut I this window still. 'Twas out of blue, turquoise a blue that confiscated thou some room in this melee am I so lethal for, so lethal am I that is my blood incited to curse, but must I cower - amidst it all cower I must.

Ah! Kinley so ineffable a 'friend' had I had ye honor of the company of, such bliss was that venom of my elixir that inflicted I for evermore. Why! must it be of not the slightest perturbation to thee, must thou sleep a sweet slumber as behold my eyes some impending apocalypse; must thee devour the delicacies of the cordon bleu whilst rendered am I compelled, eh! so compelled, to let flow this poison so toxic down these veins that still appear green on the plane; why! must thee clothe thyself in ye pink silk when hurled am I naked on the streets!

Must it be malice uttering from me, 'tis malice but, fragile is it as was a soul under torment, but to thine pleasure; may entreaty of supplication be presented for screaming is my heart now, voiceless cry that but, a deaf can hear; parched art me eyes now, but shed art some tears anyway, but 'tis all to a blind man's eye.