I don’t want to be guilty of damning you with at least the FAINTEST and most subjectively TAINTED gifts of praise, so here go my efforts to Rabble-Raise:
Thank you so much for diverting my attention to the point of distraction and detraction over the last quasi-year (that’s how long and not strong it was, or so I hear).
At first, You were reasonable and appeared feasible…at least in MY dreams, or so it seemed.
Regarding said dreams, dreams said in bed:
Do you share them, scare them, and if so, are they too scary HERE them to THERE them?
Hello, I Am HERE, and it’s clear I’m simply ME, Free, and by My Own side, shored up by my Bones Inside,
Externally-outwardly extrapolating my inner-microcity and inner-velocity.
It hurts, curts and causes squirms, twisting me out of joint and groping at my corroded copper coins bearing no worth, forcing me to be adroit and on point.
Folded blind, I cross ropes strung so very tight, who hang so very high, I feel as if I’ll die.
I’m not coordinated, so this ungracious, seemingly heart-unspacious act is mutilated and ill-fated,
Reducing me down to the ground into a Consterned Frown to reject the fact I’M the one who always has to be direct!
But what the hell? I’ll deliver the news in your favorite Smell, cloaked in the preferred perfume YOU choose and demand WE use.
Here’s the “frightful, spiteful” message I know you think you presaged (but you didn’t, you idiot, never guessing at my emotional range or age):
My thanks for your passive, toothless followship.
No thanks for No companionship.
Worst of all?
Your Zero Patronage Colds and Comforts like (and for) an Ice Age.
But thank you VERY least of VERY all for your Unfaithful, Unsameful Cybership.
With No Love Lost and No Affection,
[Not a Mothership] But at least the Mother of THIS Ship,
[I hope you can see that #methree #ME-rely reluctantly agreed].
DEAR YOU: YOUR EULOGY