i put the T in the terror (my suit)
layered with multicolored fears fastened up at the top, straight down to the root!
unseemly pressed while cleanly dressed
from the fountain to stream
or the mountain to water theme
parked are the notions of being cheered up!
taste so signature, it’s guaranteed to leave you teared up!

((( my suit is terror, as the tailor would have it )))
i said:
my suit is terror; the scaler could grab it!
stuck with the inevitable circumstance; that pyramids of soaked buttered shady fingers, results in lingers…of a marbled clog dance! advanced: is the coffee coated drizzle, remarkably the savor leaves you with merely a ‘sizzle’

thus: as the delayed fragrance inescapably landed through my nose
it was ruthlessly disclosed: how eccentric citrus and licorice spikes tend to be!
like bananas are the met gala of taste identity; extravagant spice matched with delicate strides of lavishing dice! (ain’t that nice?)

Same with fashion, like the taste of passion.