Themes and motifs are
Casual as normal
While picky findings
Present their resent.
Through thorough trials, the
Heat waves are stricken;
Belated by cravens and
Icy-numb people.

I blanched at the thought of twelve-times' timings
When fancifully tardy still means that I'm late.
Encompassing values give nothing but migraines;
When darkness is ventured, a short death should wait.
All while the writer is wishfully warping
Their own perception of how to desist;
Vacuous, but mighty, the Victorian Era
Made more than one author penned to their list.

Killing them softly could wait one or two
Centuries following the times of the tiger;
Whilst I spent money trying to clear
My only served sentence of salubrious tears
I ate and I drank the white wine of my worries
Tempestuously bubbly, my ethanol hurries.

Green was the season, dark was the fabric
I laid on, I kept my head down for a rest,
When woken, with sweat seeping through my umbrella
I caved in my uniform convex of breast
And shallowly breathed as my career sunk under
And swayed through the motions of light tones regressed;
When choking, the clucking is pushed, forced like thunder
That you're here to hear, a molester blessed.