Thou shalt not zap me! This is merely my first (and prolly last) poem for thou.

For eons has the great tapestry of history felt HIS touch upon its weave, ensnaring the hearts of man like flies caught in a silken web.

Reminds me of the Arachnoi - specially the "spider" with the torso of "men" - drooling and following each of my little Jester step.

A thousand eyes and one HE has. HIS network of operatives reach every corner of the known and unknown worlds; even into my dreams.
I am ill - I have fever, get me some herbes, I am burning; so it seems.

Just like "I spy with my little eyes"...HE is permanent pulling my strings.
The fire in HIS glowing red eyes; my flesh, my body!!! Great LORD uh-oh! Uh-oh, it stings!!!

HE likes to conduct HIS Great Work from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
HE Makes me feel like HIS ball - I start to bounce.

They say he is falsely vilified as the father of lies.
To find out if that is true, I would jump into a field of Twilight blue roses - double my size.

When I am dreaming HE tends to come to haunt me. HE lulls me to safety; lays me in a bed of feathers of the shadowy owl.
HE makes me toss and turn even curl up to fit inside HIS bowl.

HE makes me feel like a feather-pen not softly flowing however tearig, ripping, scratching over paper whilst connectig dots.
HE awakes, sets fire to all kind of spots.

HE makes me meditabor cum voluptate as if I was attending The Festival of the Gates.
Makes me commence the lamens; calls me a luminescent orange mushroom (<--Ahem? My hair is PINK!); to at the end (and this each time) leave me with head aches.

I awake and honestly have no clue of what that was all about.
Though I admint; I really dun mind - my friend is into the "Delta Alliance" - not I. I am just perhaps in YOUR eyes for the all of this; a little too stout.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Phaestian, in the year 897 AF.