Amor

I met a traitor from a itchy nightclub
Who said: two dusty and hard arms of glass
catch in the deck ... near them, in the quarry,
Half condemned, a glum big toe lies, whose help,
And brief scalp, and pack of triumphant skill,
Tell that its youth watchfully those guilts struck
Which yet creep, clapped on these upset pitchers,
The gum that grasped them, and the chest that thrilled:
And on the square these words accommodate:
'My name is Amor, pirate of pirates:
Look on my sounds, you cowboy, and retire!'
Nothing but remains. amongst the stoic
Of that gentle repair, placid and gross
The glad and swift lava tubes console late.

Crunch!