Conditions for actions

"Ripe Endowment" - [draft] - like saying you're not true
By Scaramouche, the po(t)et, attempting to write something about linoleum, one thing leading to another, and - whoa! - I ended up with this. Or, well, not quite. I was going to write an introductory verse for a piece of Norwegian prose which I started off during a bus ride this evening, and there you have it - the fleeting mind, ever-so-occupied, with its the next and sudden fancies along the train tracks of my thoughts. I rest my case. Thus, the verse turned into something completely different from what I'd originally pictured would go along with the prose. And then I couldn't even finish the prose itself, so I finished this instead! It's about being evil, really, and how we discard the ideas others. At least, that was my intentions. Not quite sure what's become of it by now, though. Slightly short, for being a poem of mine, but I won't destroy it by continuing in what might become a flawed direction. Still, I have added "draft" to the title, as to indicate that it might not be completely finalized either.

I waltz over your linoleum
like sweeping a ballroom floor
with my gown as a mop
and voluminous weapon

I cradle in your filth
like an incubated tremor
with my feet for support as I rush
off the ground and into the soil

I dismember your wisdom
like a plug that unfit for the circuit
got stuck in-between to be pulled
and broke easily as a twig

I abandon your every ship
form a stowaway offcast in battle
denying the prospects you spend in haste
were to jettison back like a buoy

I murmur within your tone
like repeating without revision
chanting disillusionment with ease
an echo of your faulty constructs

I float across your universe
like infiltrating numerous black holes
I dive and dwell, I soon divide
sorting as you endeavour harvest