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Nearby a Dying Umbrage Shrieks and Hums

So wesot meself
On flinder-blotting bums
Und gazed decrepit
On a pile of mums.

Wisbejebeter mene than eye
Have clemed this peye
Und stroud aboot
With wildbeseeming eyne
Ownaley to evere fynde
Nort niver immer blont
A slimmer yok of
Peece o mynde.

Rubricandleabras glot the nyte
Und underbole the twexted
Wented blaqueness of myne seyte
As doon de derkened pooles
Alle foolshe mene flocke
To damneden embress
Or smelle goatflesh hump
In foulesh deathley blyte

So wesot meself
On bum-blotting cinders
Whilst the flames licket
Sins uff me flinders.

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Cydonia photo: ESA

This is the journal of David Ross
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