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?

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  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.