Heed the following, beings in this haunt — stamp out those grievances as Lisa-Anne Franks be-hoofing streaking the ball, culture and finery from the windows to the walls after refusing to hide in the attics of our annihilators' minds earnest knaves, staves, and squares blowing in the fields miles on end of Jameses bonding within tenebrous licks of sin — <p align="right">Lain upon this final girl<br> in no way missing from this atavism especial<br> adapting me to being buried alive in illicit loves<br> strung by the gulls to believe the weather had cleared<br> before scratching the disappointment lottery of romance<br> averring when the universe advises me it shan't be a particular way<br>