Poetry

1. WHAT USE ?
What use was my infinite coins; if there was none to synergistically share them with
me except my own insanely decrepit self; when all that I truly needed for
quintessential existence; was just a singleton chunk of them; everyday ?
What use was my infinite happiness; if there was none to triumphantly experience it
with me except my own prejudiced self; when all that I truly needed for holistic
existence; was just a mercurial trifle of it; everyday ?
What use were my infinite clothes; if there was none to convivially wear them with
me except my own disdainfully dastardly self; when all that I truly needed for
symbiotic existence; was just a tenacious robe of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite castles; if there was none to harmoniously live in them
with me except my own viciously trembling self; when all that I truly needed
for perspicacious existence; was just a robust abode of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite victories; if there was none to blazingly rejoice in them
with me except my own spuriously sanctimonious self; when all that I truly
needed for bountiful existence; was just an exuberant handful of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite cars; if there was none to euphorically enjoy them with me
except my own remorsefully fretting self; when all that I truly needed for vibrant
existence; was just an exhilarating model of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite fantasies; if there was none to fantastically admire them
with me except my own obnoxiously ghoulish self; when all that I truly needed for
scintillating existence; was just a sensuous dream of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite watches; if there was none to blissfully witness them with
me except my own pathetically decaying self; when all that I truly needed for
enamoring existence; was just a meticulous dial of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite landscapes; if there was none to celestially philander on
them with me except my own drearily morose self; when all that I truly needed for
heavenly existence; was just a infinitesimal contour of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite flowers; if there was none to ecstatically smell them with
me except my own lunatically zany self; when all that I truly needed for priceless
existence; was just a fragrant petal of them; everyday ?

2. What use were my infinite forests; if there was none to mystically adventure in them
with me expect my own scurrilously withering self; when all that I truly needed for
effulgent existence; was just an inconspicuous branch of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite accomplishments; if there was none to wholeheartedly
relish them with me except my own nonchalantly indolent self; when all that I
truly needed for beautiful existence; was just an articulate parcel of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite oceans; if there was none to ebulliently swim in them with
me except my own treacherously lambasting self; when all that I truly needed for
voluptuous existence; was just an undulating wave of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite memories; if there was none to nostalgically relive them
with me except my own preposterously stinking self; when all that I truly needed for
sparkling existence; was just a fugitive anecdote of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite Sun’s; if there was none to unassailably dazzle in them
with me except my own barbarously brutal self; when all that I truly needed for
gregarious existence; was just a flamboyant ray of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite clouds; if there was none to compassionately bathe in
them with me except my own unforgivably goddamned self; when all that I truly
needed for sacred existence; was just an ephemeral mist of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite hands; if there was none to amiably intertwine with them
except my own mordantly penurious self; when all that I truly needed for divinely
existence; was just a few fingers of them; everyday ?
What use were my infinite breaths; if there was none to timelessly coalesce with them
except my own obstinately constipated self; when all that I truly needed for
sustainable existence; was just a sparse entrenchment of them; everyday ?
And what use were my infinite hearts; if there was none to immortally love them
except my own satanically devastating self; when all that I truly needed for
unconquerable existence; was just a pulsating beat of them; everyday ?