I Suppose This Means War

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Bridges burn with a fierce blue vigorous gleam. I can’t bend the world to my will, it chuckles in times of irreproachable agony. Making things right seems inconceivably hopeless. With you it can’t be this damning, a sea of light in your eyes begins to fade dimly. Work is for the foolish prideful men squirming to make their crops plentiful. Life is shameful, for the barren no one brings home currency without the sweat off their back as payment. My thoughts are like encoded insinuation, that I don’t believe their own declaration.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger

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