We perform like locusts, as they soar through a autumn breeze. To consume whatever may be in their pathway, figures have a watchful eye on the ball. Revolting is implemented without delay, fear of the buzzards nest that engulfs your blissful nature. Found in oddening, and in feverish decay as your skin rots within itself. In the circular structure, enveloped inside the featured madness. Your dates aren’t the same as my own, the numbers are off putting in questions arise from their graves. The time on your watch, lets you in on a smaller entrapment. These words become your damage, it is without delay that you must fight for the future. You must show them your armored kin, they will bow before your gleaming eye. For it is you that holds the cup, where the souls often dwell as would a winery of bitter fruit.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger