A Trophy

My stubble bubbles solid but docile, no style, through a flaking crust parched of mens sans corporeal insanity seeking simulated amenity. A vessel of intemperate capacity sits while its vaporous genius flits from locale to look, all I'm doing is no things - and you? All you're doing is all thing no think, all swing and no meaning, all screaming at a corpse to rehearse its perverse degenerative demeaning keratypical preening. My razor sings keener for a virtuous dreamer, parsimoniously saner sans corporedeeming. Five oaks lock my shadow to this stump but in the time you spent barking me them my leaf left to hearken a taiga from occident to orient to bathe in the firmament with its filaments fuming discorporate intent. Dust off my stardust for each morrow, the sorrow of deepening furrows hobbling my verse, whiskers ever lusting for the ravenous hearse. I retch at their stretch, they sketch a line segment, I efface their segue for as long as lotophagy holds sway over mens saner every day away from the insanity of the corpores publica sweeping its raptor wings right and left as I pray and delay, everextend my satirical transfigural literacy until you finally litter away this follicular tapestry and the apathetic apatitic carcera with its daimon d'invenzione long fled a stray from your pack with your rack of thumbs screwed up and down, sounding the length of my beard while my weirdness escapes your deciduous inquiry in der net full of holes in your walls that you cobble so dearly, incapable of mingling your superb novas clearly, incapable of peering beyond your horizons eventually dimming having never gone swimming in the synaptic buff sans this fluff you so gleefully scoff at adorning my bark while my cambium sings with Precambrian strings and Pleistoscents fragrant as vagrants' ameth scribed methodically unto the meeting of thinking and thing. One I'll keep 'til the other you wring from my purpose to repose upon your bare lingual walls, with a note neatly scrawled:
"here lies beast by distemperate moonlight unwisely digressed its hirsute condemnation to snarl homo-lupinely at our anexetaston."