Twice, thrice and toto-frice? I consolidated visionaries and pander to picturesque paper planes my no-muse-phantasm perspired a subfusc syllabic synchronization of thoughts and vexatious turmoil trespassing the point of my lifeless nefarious-nib,
Using a bleaching-burner I shan't efface eulogia which I traveled by my wings, so-called libraries and when I relish that tangy sourdough of inked-journals I morph into so autumnal-auburn-ashes
I have travelled on paper-palimpsests trailing towards the manuscripts meandering on streams of solitude selecting a succored-sauntering synecdoche and bled bonfires to those dark and doused palabras
A safari to hunt the seraph of poetries or a globetrotting to gleam glossaries I've smouldered suffixes and massacred mutilated poetries.
(As I saw in the comments not many people got the actual point of this poem let me give you all a summary about this, This is a poem about a quill which sum up the visionaries to indulge and carve Paper planes through fantasy and trespass through the turmoil of its bewildering sync of thoughts and life which are odious to its nib it will die inside a bleaching-burner will keep writing itself eulogies will travel the hidden libraries and will taste that sour journal of those ole journals it will change into autumn then will be auburn ashes. It will travel on palimpsests, manuscripts, solitude, will succour the selected synecdoche by sauntering on them and will bleed fire to dead words. Whether to hunt the poetries or to travel through the world of glossaries it'll burn the suffixes and maimed poems. Hope this help you all)