Bright and bold charlatans, moving along side proof of purchase in a store of candid pastorians. These hunters focus their eyes in a water bed riddled with bonuses. Stranded in a car floor, trapped screaming its majester. These fighters brace for the fall, encompassing and in a summer fled oath. Gold markings, it hasn’t seen its brightest day in a long while. Gaping holes, impenetrable and lazy on the mounted doorway. The continents falls into to the oceanic breeze, compressed with blood soaked towelettes. Pacing back and forward, for the feast of injustices done to the boys in these strangers lives. We didn’t love you, we instead failed to see the worth in our wonderment and tired hushed light. The apples fall, they hit the steal with a glorious jolt of damage. He views the party below him, scratching his neck of the filthy stench abroad.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger