Shifting stripes of light scratch their way through the forest. My stranger drive is only shy the devil himself growling as the soundtrack. Mounds of earth look like burnt loaves of bread off in distance. Dante’s forest snatches any level of comfort I had going into it.
A small cringe closes upon me. Like a wild wolf cajoling me, your practice of heaping praise seems more than kind. My eyes close to hide the blight called twisted love.
The sharp piercing of my right arm told my mind the snarling small dog was a problem. I flailed after I saw him. My car waited with a bar in the trunk. His haul of flesh will leave a scar. But soon I’ll treat him apart, casting him upon a hearth of his Hellhound brethren.
Defenseless teeth feel like they are abut to shatter. The crescendo of the trumpet playing shrill excuse for the right note brings blood to the edges of my ears. Birds rattled by the electrifying noise bare their tail feathers leaving for land of milk and honey. The gravity of lack of talent starts to weight against the monetary gain.
Sands follow the boundless wind. The sound of madness powers past me. The urge to shout battles memory of the taste of the desert. At least, I can miss hunger.
My rasping voice becomes hazy. Words folded like frozen route fall. Outside the crazy place designated home, I watch for the holy Saint Poverty to leave. The winds gusts across barren earth. Prayers fail to find ears.
The truth bends like a message missing ink. Gentle spin was supposed to put doubt in a distant row. The debris of my spectacle scattered about a post in mint shape.
A cold, dense rain tramples the magic of a sunny day. The cat takes aim dangerously at my twitching hand. Weather holds today’s tale ransom while change waits patiently elsewhere.
I question the sanity of my shady game of chicken with January. The gravity of situation figures to assemble a list of things taken. Superstition of Jack Frost told in ice grains on my skin.
The silver light tells that nothing exists as the middle seam holding this illusion together. Mighty rumors swing like vines ditching warnings of why and how. No wonder logic seats lost here.