A tale of home, a sweetness of bitter life. A fleeting of truths and few little white lies. I can, but not when without. Where do we go under the dark lit fire as the air topples over in a chasm of barbs and wires. Give me a right and leave me a wrong, for now it is the sand that grabs my thoughts along.
Yes I had a dream I stood underneath a broken sky. It was as if nothing stood, depleted of time. The grain that grew frozen and withered in green grime. Muttering on, the last of its trembling breath, the pestilence man himself above and beyond the orange sky.