Rivers and streams, lush greens of life, arrived one spring in Fairyland.
The ‘heavy-handed’ Architect from Nowhere’sland, Roman, had opened his mouth to question the engineer.
The end was near and nigh of the rising of the Tower of Life.
Scoured they, the O.G.E.R
To hold up each part of precious metaled boulders, covering over the well of life,
and well by night a good portion had been removed.
Through the grooves, arose much of oozing liquid.
Murky, putrid, gooey.
Dark black blue seeped,
oozed again from out of the remaining batch.
“Reminds me of a pair of vats of the blood of the Dragon’s tooth.
Collected and soothed, hidden beneath the lab of the glorious ‘King Fake Face,'”
with great haste took he, the engineer, a sample,
“Commence, gentlemen.”
& with no questions asked, none to ramble against,
“Again!” commanded Roman, eyes bright red as apples, blooming through the outskirts upon the wiles of the Wilderness.
0
0
