Where once the limericks danced, Now sits an echo, a pungent laugh — “This dictionary is two years overdue!” Chortle at the lexicons, cavort through the aisles of disillusioned verbiage, where irony thrums like a forgotten heartbeat, wrapped in stanzas of yawned dreams, peppered with ancient despair— a menagerie of phonemes curled up in silent scripts.
"Why swim in the ocean of grammars," one astute observer remarked, "when drowning in ambiguity offers softer injuries?" The syllables rise and fall like the last leaves of an autumn that forgot to unnaturally die.
Did you hear—
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The <poems> of yesterday grinning, darkened shadows looming, cascading words, like debris from a concert of silence. Vote early for nonsense or skip the ballots: the council of anti-mimes shall meet at dawn, they claim - a procession of archaic marauders whispering, a grim repository of winked narratives, tracing tendrils of laughter enshrined in overlapping asymmetry.
May the ink of forgotten pens guide your path:
Hydra's Lament - Click here
Writings of the Wyverns - Embrace the imps
Lament of the Linear - To tangle within time