Start at the End

I learned to fly for the express purpose of watching my nemesis crawl.

Behold my first Corinthians heart against the backdrop of a Genesis fall.

We wrestled Olympians, the proof of which is a crack in the premises wall.

If a psychiatric referral fails, there are always unregulated chemisist malls.

Pack guns for these Oregon Trails, they improvise our faces on terrorist dolls.

I am not handy with a pitchfork, and a lit torch goes against my fire insurance plan.

Boxed wine, ditch cork, let the villagers stay dry as I reprise my role as the boogie man.

My art is of a kitsch sort, the classical tastes decry my work as a long running sham.

Polo is kind of a rich sport, so I purchased a donkey with an impeccable health exam.

Give me a plank of wood, hammer, and silk sheet with the addition of a carpenter nail.

A magnet is a makeshift information jammer, blue skies are a good harbinger for sail.

Don't read the lips of pirates when they stammer, X marks the spot of a black suit and funeral veil.

Come a little bit closer, your eyes are relaxed, but you grin tight.

Is he a guru or poser? Every offense I utter is encrypted insight.

From an ignominious beginning I chose her, over one hand every gifted man did fight.

Though it seems insidious, I froze her radiance with an accusation of midnight.

It only takes one broken window, and the property value slowly starts to drop.

The running of the bulls is a grim show, wholeness commands respect, whereas parts do not.

Behind the swinging horns is a fragmented backstory

My allergy rewrites the script where the rag-scented lack glory.

Read the police report, paragraphs indented, the attack gory.

For this cause my love is resented, a rehabbed image will just bore me.

What was once ripe in now fermented, I just needed you for one moment to adore me.