Speerit's Wordforge

  Set alone in dusty antinomy, frameless thoughts on hollow walls Echoing heartache quenched on a canvas the world sighs and tiringly recalls. The air is heavy and damp with melancholy, an aching parade of practiced retreat. The smoke hides the ceiling, feet nailed to the floor, the smell of tobacco and petrichor grief.   Eyes flutter down at an opera in motion while the voltage is humming with practiced devotion Their verdant cascades tell of wary enrapture, methodical soothsaying, each chord a divulgence. Each revelation of bloody construction, the price is too dear and the storefront is shuttered. Quickening breath tearing rifts in the gutters, the cascading deluge of rhythmless clutter, his hand grips his chest, the impasse is sputtered, to die on a leash or escape unencumbered? Fine strands of silver more precious than profit run racetracks for tears as they fall from his face The tune reassembles to something domestic, placid antinomy and conscripted ...