Little Runt Dweller

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Pyramid embroiled in delicious treason, the kindred spirit cannot skamper from his devious pleasures. These blended lesions, starcrossed from beginnings of damming miniature skins and lashings. Percentages outweigh the blood filled whimpers, in the mouths of a tumbling ghost ship. Draining funds from the wounds of a frightened legion. Hearts discharging, seeping through the skin moving ever so near the destination. Weapons held the world together, on a tilted beam of light. Buildings upright, in the scalpel of fun and an embassy. Shower them in your hope, for it is a forgery of injustices and mood rigor. Were you precise in balance, blending into the tree’s hiding from the predators of the twilight. Dancing atop the water, with the moonlight caressing your eye sight embellished in magnetism.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger

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