Another mouldy string
in your intricate web
of lies gives way,
the remainder straining
to bear your weight and
the sticky mess unlikely
to cushion your fall from grace.
Petals of a rich, vivid fuchsia slouch in drunken dishevelment, glutted on sweet rain.
A pyre for dreams and discord, for savage expectations and risky opportunities, sends shadows to dance along the walls, entwined with the…
Never have I wanted so much to die. A heartbreaking echo from years past whispered in my memories, of a time the sea tempted you to wade in…