They say there’s the he said, and she said and then there’s the truth. Find the small hole, in the mask of desolation. Its there, that you’ll begin to comprehend what know already. We often pursue loose ends, that leads to atom bombs of distraction. Forgetting the basics of solitude, drawing on the walls with blood of our own eradicated ambition. Squandered by movement in blank spaces, the black folds in the paper trails are bleak and frail. I feel the rope tie around my throat, it tightens as I await the crucial potent malice of this split in consciousness. Red shivers in the pavement, coercive in their application periods of folly. Do you know what the code is, for it is as baffling as a train floating off its rails.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger