Wood Chipped Forearms


Breath into my pathway, run from the varment pursuing your stillness. You sleep on the checkered flag, racing through your head of wondrous catchings.  Your fighters tread in the light of confusion and chaos. The opposition feels a heel pressing against its templed nerves. Legions of four legged creatures, embark on a journey through your desolation. Only fit for the haze, wood chipped grinders and gashes found you in contempt. The kicks are egregious, newly found in forces. Blocks fall to the floor, crashing into the walless shrinking brigade. Slabs cut your hands, figures one to another why we cannot solve this equivocal splendor. Taking deep reverberated slights, rumbling forth in an eccentric leisure. Determination comes at a cost,  are you prepared to take this loss.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s