What does little Wolfgang love ‘bout Tuesday?

The present, that's a lye L and the past? That's the empire falling, OD L

He’s unsteady on his feet of clay, reminiscing, shorts short as a pulp tail

How long till the crumbling empire of old crashes? How long till he feels the death throes through his damned toes? How long till the trumpet truly frees him to fornicate with the accordion, that harsh mistress, Moon?

Stolen story; please report.

Dreaming of reading in the stars, newborn eldritchian

Elder leeching off the nebula, nebulous

Dull day in the clay, Splash bro injured, stones on feet splash

Boss stone falling, dream statue crash, variegated end, hush.