Strophic Nonsense

I have lost the ability to think in straight lines. I am a tangential thinker; a feckless gadabout. I exploit and abuse proper grammar, sentence structure and paragraphing, sidestepping syntax altogether. I mistake tropes for interpolations and interpolations for tropes, strophic nonsense. I have never seen, let alone vetted, a biscuit tin offering plate or a Katowice blackguard, nor have I ever set foot in a rectory closet or a commode, I just made them up for the heckle of it. If it rains today, which I’m sure it will, wretched child, I will tilt my face into the nearest thunderburst and collect raindrops on the tip of my ligulae. That’s it, I’m all wrought out.