Facetious

He looks,
With a pensive eye,
But that is all,
He will ever show.

Maybe it's my lack,
Of vehemence,
But his turbid oculus,
Shows only what is forlorn.

My musing is lost,
To a place with dexterous instinct,
And vociferations couple,
With crimson regret.

"Center girl",
Or all will be lost,
This is your only moment,
To show acquiesce.

Maybe you will come anon,
Maybe you will not,
I need camphor,
For my doleful ventricle.

Then there are my intimates,
With their vain abets.
There are those other guys,
With their meaningless entreaties.

I always show forte,
Resolute they are,
Whimsical conversations,
Sometimes-constant vexation.

Used to running in the wild,
Wielding a jet cloak,
Wishing for one of bombazine,
But then the scrutinizers came.

I wanted to be prudent,
Like that one from afar,
But who am I but a benefactress,
Through life with a lack of eloquence.

Here I sit,
Trying to expiate,
Bespattered,
In the slough of life.

But listen to me now,
Everything is facetious.