Luyện nghe bài hát Crowquill

Nothing's so lucid as the promise of dreams, but these pills we found just me sleep.
There's nothing quite so pure as the word my dear, so lets have ourselves a little poem.
Until the to speak loses urgency.
Our animal indecency in is so blase.
Its the bell tower, at the golden hour.
Angel of the spires climbs here cage staircase spine, angle of desire.
Ascend the wrought iron, one by one, by wrung.
Is it the rising roof line makes me feel so swallowed whole,
or the way my body barely the sky,
the same as a century's worth of virgin's that's passed through my longing veins,
scheming to my aching mind that pleasure's got nothing on the miracle of need.
Nothing's so purile as meter and rhyme when you can't see the ground from ledge and this perch is so far, far from the nest.
doesn't grant me the privilege of failure my bough never breaks
I don't stumble into
so I climb and I my initials in the bark with that feather I found but its all so contrived.
My genes didn't bless me with the foresight of a sage but I know how this end, in apologies and ink on the page.
A slowly crow quilled confession of my spirit to all of you,
waterproof ink scars the board, so hot-pressed, pristine and pure.
A slowly constructed of "to tremble",
as base as a bridge in a and less like the poem that I promised you.
Nothing's so lurid as haiku-detat on in white outlined chalk,
all I've got is ink smeared lines.
our voices in harmony, the offering, of a crow quilled threnody.