Overextended and compacted, inside the hinges of a cross contaminated breech. Moving outward, like a whale entrenched on its duty to breath the gas fumes. This is a bloody conflict, brought into the fold for unblemished entrenchment. Folded by paper weights, in a bland sunny and dry existence. So he finds you in the hold, in these broodish boils of anguish and intolerance legions. Your beatles crawl on the pavement, smashing their loathful philanthropy. Slimy as it gazes into the world of inconsistencies, forth brands and antiquation on the skin sprawled like a painful lashing. Where did you reside in these towns, do you break the walls of irregularity. These pools of substance and vibrance, fueled by torment and indignation. Bloody mysticism, it can be found in the darkest parts of a soul embellished and intertwined in a hole of defiance.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger