Entitled

I am learning not to believe in shells. 
The pressure to perceive erases ease.
Don't mind me said the melodious forecast.
I'm screeching to the choir beseeching yarn.
Weave warmth from your hand to my overcast sleeve.
One of us has crept up to the altar cloth.
Someone without a name is blessing babies.
I must glance at the driver's license first.
She called me her quaint friend on the not smart phone.
Leave the rough cut humoresque to tea leaves.
My still young fist mimics your percussive splurge.
Capstone courseware founded on a hop bet.
Go be miniature elsewhere wait for the call.
Borderline brevity aims for the spittoon.

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