"when the still stirs, and the day is embedded with night, and the stars refuse to shine"

i haven't the breath to respond, yet i have spoken all to quickly, and in the arrogance of my own words, a tear has blossomed of hatred and anger. still the heart, for you grows, and the bitterness has taken form, shapely is the disgust at the words from my very own being, and the harshness of my innuendo and caustic filth and betrayal and wickedness have yet to invoke the feces erupting from my mouth, still the still stirs, and the day is embedded with night, and the stars refuse to shine, slaughter me the pain, and erect the stringent undoubtedly the promises, i have found nothing but filthy empty promises when the still stirs, and the day is embedded with night, and the stars refuse to shine...