luck has nothing to do with it 
surpassing probabilities, factors and a mess
tango the intangibility that lacks this draw
roulette pushed more than silver through slots
a pesky kind of tease like the unreachable itch
the only one who seeks to be ghost, you in a million 
typewriter, on its own typing some useless pitch
dress naked for yourself, prepare a stench in rots
leaking violence amongst flames spreading on the shaw
our over achievers and procrastinators both can bless
flesh flashed ending in protection for a shriveled bit