Romeo and Juliet

Rain had gutted the top of the tower
As to make the gargoyles seem that much more menacing;
The sound of slats slipping could be heard of miles over,
But a man’s mind is muddied by a myriad of things.

For just down below you could see poor Romeo,
Rutting up the romances he’d written last night
In a fit of prim passion, like the wind that blows
Warm breeze in the winter under rare sunlight,
And like a leaf that rarity opts to levitate,
His heart too was ventilating not so mildly:
Thinking thoughts of Juliet that his cool couldn’t sate,
His crotch too was crooked- ‘twas stretching violently. 
Regardless of his Australia he had much to say
About the things that in his heart was going down;
Under the tower’s shade where no gawkers could stray
He’d soliloquize a tempest that’d make her drown.

And as she appeared out of nowhere, out of dreams,
The last thing that he heard was the shrill sounding scream.

Rain had gutted the top of the tower
As to make the gargoyles seem that much more menacing;
The sound of slats slipping could be heard of miles over,
But a boy’s brain is bashed in by more bountiful things.