We read and we think but it’s not from the link that spins round in our heads in a daze. To the brink with my ink, never shrink from the stink that’s imagined I’ve wrote on the page.
To be gruff, yes it’s ruff when you read into stuff that’s beyond the intent of the scribe. But pay heed, Theres no deed that is too bad to seed in the mind of a person alive.
So, to end I’ll defend my intent to extend my aloofness of poetic vigour, not pretend to offend or so be it the end with my finger pressed firm on the trigger.