Where do I put it all?
Something common to call on?

No, not at all.
Im forced to cultivate a virtue which has not yet been founded.

****** fastens around the gull constricting,
he's a sweltering scarf with an ill temper.

Barbarity and terror as an accessory to his will.
An accessory that is adorning me.

The scheme is choked at birth,
shame to have ever made it past audacity.

Passion is such a nasty endeavor
and should be swiftly finished;
not ever refined to be more than a temporary embarrassment.

In his grasp I trust.
If I would like to have a common thing to call on
then I must.

I'll spend some time mitigating my ineffective ambitions and exploiting the others.

All fervent works are washed away by this deflection,
and i've configured a will without good direction.

Now without a channel;
Ill be delivered from my suffering once Ive found the words to say how I have suffered.