Sophomoric dystopias

The trebled bases of time, the languid
Sophomoric dystopias that fill your livid

Bases mingled with sweet morrows and
Shaded hapharzardnesses climbing out

Of some noons which are shaded with
Syllabyllic time, shepherded once again

With rhyme, bespectacled with the rhythm
Of time, and riddled with the conspiratorial

Factories of many days, many nights and
The leftover grains speaking less loudly 

Only because of distance, a distending 
Distance stretching out because it was due.