Strands of cure-all hanging down can cleanse the crap in sullied neck.
No recompense for wreck of sense; my throat exploded, spreading dreck.
Bearing larynx such as mine (a portal warping kind intent)
Was warranting forlornness. Ugly vibe was spry, would not relent.
Love descends, a fibrous siphon pulling up reverse cascade,
Solution from the quiet siren culling call of lingual raid.
Brush and whisper, hushing timbre, join to guard us from my voice.
The pulchritude that you exude from scalp can help me. I rejoice.