Nonsense

I do what I detest,
smack lips on unrest, chest heaving
without repreive,
this sin I'm in.

Good is so tiresome,
why so,
toothsome
this grin of sinning,
thinning bone
                   China hair
raising tin
                   roof regalia.

If you were the best of times
I'm mesmerized by the worst
ticking of clocks
                         tocked and talked
out of rhyme.

Mind over matter,
yet what does it matter
when matte pages gloss over
shining smiles...

the isles and aisles of lost integrity
sigh and heave
without reprieve
just grin and whisper

this sin I'm in.