Bottom of the Bottle by Monocephalized, literature
Literature
Bottom of the Bottle
Draft and all of its pickings
Like a sandbar in the pool of an island
Waiting warm in the midst, whirligigs pull and twist
So to van off the tide
Peers that talk to the outcast
From a tumbled tear of glass for the myling
Courted just but not right, read and versed but not tried
To express how it made
Faint could pulse come the bicker
And be destined in a dance self-relenting
Weighted down in the wake, plagued the box of the late
And return in its kind
On the 1st day of Snoggletog
Ruffnut gave to me
Tuffnut in a Loki tree
On the 2nd day of Snoggletog
Gobber forged for me
2 Gronckle Iron earrings
And Tuffnut hanging in a Loki tree
On the 3rd day of Snoggletog
Johann traded me
3 breast hats
2 Gronckle Iron earrings
And Tuffnut sleeping in a Loki tree
On the 4th day of Snoggletog
Astrid gave to me
4 mugs of Yaknog (barfs)
3 breast hats
2 Gronckle Iron earrings
And Tuffnut still sleeping in that tree
On the 5th day of Snoggletog
Snotlout sold me
5 Gronckle eggs ***KABOOM!!!*** (eggs explode)
4 mugs of Yaknog
3 breast hats
2 Gronckle Iron earrings
And Tuffnut waking up in Loki tree
On the 6
As ancient exultations leave for rest between formations in the sky each night
Leave for me the sweet kisses I have witless been the victim every time I might
Twist wildly in my bed like the unread descriptions of my idle fantasy
Please be at the sunrise to my surprise with all the things I love to rightly
A pillow for my tears in either fear or deeper joys lay always under me
And guard against the world where I have twirled and never touched upon another tree
A whisper should I fall beneath the roughened kindly sprawl will never haunt the space
As soon I know with all my heart a fate will grow and bring you right beside me
Each shiny coin
Tender half-rings of my desk
Bandwidth lines my plaid have bled
Because I am, a writer and a wreck
Scuttled insects chittering
A nest in camouflage am I
Dead as you; A car without a track
And never mind how often fly
As I, a hull apologize
As I, a hull, can count between the tines
Porous were you reacting
A sudden shift between out tasks
And you are here, while I will take you sling
Though mine are outside looking in
They bury quick to keep their kill
A mimic lost in gamble for their sting
Tender half-rings match my own
A maimed pair ridden far from home
Where one has come, another cannot leave
Suspended by this suicide
This manifest will
Quiet streetlights
Dim in hindsights
Just to pass on their ways
And the night who is sleeping about me
From the high place
Where the gold rays
Never touch or give joy
Will I watch and be thankful to see
I have been wanderer, researcher
I have been ill of my time
Yet for these day cycles, I will find
More than is merit, and more than is mine
Just the small things
Shards and slidings
Off the back of cold stone
Like a gem with its flaws all in sun glow
Through my cracked eyes
Aged past surprise
But I still enjoy so
For the song in my heart may still blow
I have been burier, worrier
I have been lost for so long
Yet for these day cycles, I am c
Dine on the handbook with pages of leaves
Between our chapters and carpets we clean
The wine is better when savoured in deep
Crystal from, appropriated
Crawling creatures with six-legged feet
Would spin a ravel and strip off the scene
Either way do you share what you keep
Or let it slide as unoperated
Dancing vigils dance
And sleeping sigils sleep
A tide has tarried for far too long
Trapped in the shallow shell
Diving deep with the payment of friends
To whittle down and exspunge the expense
A travel bag made of leather and glass
With a dark aqua-non-marine
Busy pries off the models and wake
More most than hunger our search of the lake
A sin
The crosses on my back
The jagged laughter so
Would have me all attack
And disregard my home
But I have not a sham
To throw into their blaze
They crucify myself
As if I am alone
They have me to their aisle
With passage marked in stone
These heavy holes they say
Are telling of my own
Old and wise and weak
The simple things they say
As I come through their midst
With pebbles for my bones
I have a face
Marked through broken glass
A face I do not know
It sees my grace
Shattered as the glass
And fallen cold as snow
How similar distaste
The bitterness of cold
I wrap my shame encased
With tattered bit of clothes
A moment with their game
Has poked
From diamonds, spades and hearts
I feel the deck has parts
That never suit to what I might
Call just for mine to see, and all I am to be
With just this hand of fading light
The morning bends the blooms
To fill an empty gloom
That always changes every night
The vase if overflown, and tears I’ve shed and shown
Make such a poor place for their life
I feel this world is bare, a room with naked air
Devoid as any I could hide
Though maybe strange to bear
I feel this naked care
Is all I have to give away
I gamble clueless to the open break
And pray a wind will have my chance
I feel this world unfair, may still give loss its share
And maybe