Love and Laughter

You have posessed [sic] me distressed me in my nine mood muses
I walk around the jail parade ring till your third degree bruises
Are a bloody net about my shoulders
The gravel under my bare feet is the shingle
From the brimstone boulders.

Ting ting tingle
Goes your little bell of speech
And I grow daft and dafter…
Free me, O God put laughter
Within a lover's reach!