Blockades within bird cages, single out the matriarch in the fields of janitorial mythology. Antiquity with wholesome belly’s, filled with concrete shafts hardened with a mongrel. Majesty as the kingship and its courts push outward. To find a bleak fortitude, in contracting wishful blocks of willingness. Moving forward, the iron clad breaks the seal of wounded brackets. Eighty days, with eighty twilight’s to go before it becomes unbearable. Laughter brings nothing more than bondage, for the winds and wings surface to find you hiding in the brush.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger