The desert has broke its quarantine, slipping across the border in the nave of a C5 Galaxy.
With the millstone of war now but a token tucked in the folds of a blanched red cape hanging stiffly in the stall of a greyer and greyer wardrobe, the havoc-keen mind turns to seeking new prey, rending the causeway of darting shoals.
The once-unoccupied body rejects its prevailing indolence, remembering its former prowess, craving the clout of motive, no longer to languish. The creeping rot of dignity has failed to quell a roiling; the clever administration has fallen away, only feral residuals remain.
A silent dexterity attempts to maintain its dicey balance upon the crumbling fulcrum of benevolence. The frenzy-deprived brainwork straddles it. Any attempt to counteract a previous deed amplifies it. The resonant frequency echoes across the stress fracture chasms.
Dug from beneath a medley of heavy, heraldic emblems with moth-chewed ribbon garlands, explicit tools are riled and handled with proper custody.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
The young man with the old eyes. He knows that the only real measure of man’s character in modern society is the level of self-control he ...
-
handfuls of anvils for aches and spills, rhythmically hammering advil pills, bellows and coal bourbon and skoal, the loitering smoke a s...
-
'perennial with the earth.' there is a dream of america. one that lives on in the hearts of its daughters and sons. despite bei...