Lost. Poem by Ebi Robert

It is pity
Watching, reading in glass.
So man have eyes in a lie.
Five great occasions.
Two works.
A Righteous thief
and a Righteous Christ.
Drunk and drinking.
Drunk and dry.
dream and dreaming, dishes of eye falling.
Dreamt and waken.


I.
i, vigor and potency, fast in fishing,
I.
I, vigor and potency, faint in fishing
I, vigor and potency, to songs and poems.
I. Vigor and potency, to sin and police.
Appalling priest in tenor.
'Tis in correction, I have brethren say
That king in lanes, I have followers
matching to bottles as drunk as sour.

It is Mad men that do sour.
And mad souls as dead as sour.
They are Mad.
And for the exaceration, More mad.
Aliens. Strangers.
More mad and sour.
By screen in glass screen they sour
Lost. They're.
Two great walls.
Ehn! Two great wall. They give the drunk.

Now you far and near.
My first letter to shakespare is damned.
But I send another to be damned.
By error and mistakes.
why cry when you can?
To news and tales.
This is a poem and tale.