A favor

By Phil Rosie Gioldasis
Peeking inside mice creeping thoughts.
Of walking tinglings and abobnidable.
Like passions dusts and itches soiled.
I find them in the fields like soldiers.
Awaiting a home with holes in their belly.
Maybe birds or fowls unintelligebility.
I bury them there by the flower bed of mice.
Who sees Visions of sight my soul in me.
To peek in the tabernacle box without aim.
Mice alarmed look past the fields,nerve?
Many are they that know,a paragon a boast.
Gods own kingdom of revolting bootlicker.
Suborninate to none so to get a feel.
Out they await for haydes horrors sufice.
Innocence to protect its strife to exomune.
To curse those hagiology and protect the tabernacle