The bestest of the bestest contest Is free

You can’t question my integrity
Nor can you denigrate me and my brains.
Hundred fathoms deep
In the river of conspiracy
I throttled my cerebrum
To swim against the current.
I had replenished my cerebral hemispheres
With ideas of chronic wit carnage.
My superfluous ebbullience
Is a camouflage
That shrouds my shrewd valour
That can toggle between
Past learnt distich
And now unlearnt pastiche.
I distill my perception whiskey
With fermented seventh sense
Aged and cased
In a white oak skull casket.
Now my perception whiskey
Has aged like fine wine. It
Smells fine and tastes fine.
And I know, a pint of its spirit
Passed on to you
Will make your tipsy flight,
A migration into the
Perpetual realm of
Sagacious cognizance.
But then again ,
For brewing my perception whiskey
In your distillery, firstly
You need to be
The best sommelier of the world.
And you know not
The bestest of the bestest contest
Is free

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