Dodecahedral dissolution of diaphanous draperies, Narcissus-X follows full fathom five and penguins dive; cavorting round the glen. And should the goblins be in bloom, in chambers ten by ten.
For if these truths from fardels flee, fifteen years see five thousand sunsets and forty dozen, not a million: Stafford, Stratford, Stratford-on-Avon and twelve make seventeen which make a haiku, or would, if a woodchuck could chuck wood.
Deep dive the penguins, yet deeper still must Narcissus-X descend; should a patient etherized upon a table smell as sweet; good night sweet penguin: flocks of krill trill trippingly on the tongue.
The whirlwind of penguins for the most part are capable of nothing, but let your own discretion be your tutor.
Tutor, suitor, six-gun shooter, tinplate turkeys, the terror of tiny town rides again.
And still must Narcissus-X descend, through the obsidian sky, past ebon crystal chambers of unremembered dreams, where skeins of penguins bisect dichotomous distillations.