If you scratch my soul,
You will get scraps of Jane Austen.
If you scratch scraps of Jane Austen,
You will get attain the traits of a raconteur.
...
When you pick your nose
And pull the booger out,
Which is slimy, sticky and black,
I feel awful. I can't feel more pain
...
The tenebrous tiring tipsy night strutted away,
As the sun tarried to commence its dynamic day.
A bluish beam lingered in the air,
But something amidst the bluish beam,
...
The wind in the breeze is like
Life within a sea wave,
Tea within a cup,
Dreams within sweet slumber.
...
He turned the doorknob
To see it move.
He lifted the carpet
To see the floor.
...
The dome of witchcraft
Lays untrod
Amongst the marshes and the dark.
I heard a wolf's howl there
...