Dec 31, 2014
Despondency in passing.
“When in the good night,” yelled an old friend, “a demon would come and tell me a story. Fables, perhaps!” O’er and down he’d scend while rehearsing the day he wandered the corrie – “its sickness!” he claimed as slowly he sunk “the gibberish I sing that you long to hear and the darkness within that lent you that tear.” Then just in that moment raised a loud clunk. The spirits had come to warn me of morrow – The general moment which felt like implosions when off of that couch I followed the motions, but this is, now- the bereavement in convulsions, the backlash lived through the years in commotions, I’m mourning you now as large as the oceans.