I know you are boneless yet really strong.

Fleshy yet can pierce like a claw.

Soft and can sing a melodious song.

Smooth and can act garnished or raw.


Tricky; no wonder it is shorter than long.

Tough but hangs in the confines of walls.

Filled with blood, no wonder it makes certain wrongs.


It can set free or set one into a bond.

A bond in which they are bound to perform all rounds of what casts it into that lounge.

A part as discrete.

A part which can stir you bad or tell you sweets.

A part as weak.

A part which can tell you calm or tell you with a hard tweak.

A part as sleek.

A part which can whip from left to right or right to left to tell you something is sweet.

A part with a streak.

A part which sweeps from up to down to articulate your feelings with such oblique.

A part which tells truth of what you feel or tells the opposite and what others are to believe.


I know that as long as I live, I will be trapped by the actions of this whip.

And as long as it whips, I will be trapped in existence- even when I am planted into the earth like a seed.

For whatever my actions be; whatever the story reads, it is my tongue that said my thoughts with ease.

Rot not tongue.

Rot not!



Asford Psalms.

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