A fleck of an ideal

I was but a moral in the eye of a fitful storm, words a plenty in the insatiable ravages of all the chaos this vessel bore

Saints so fallen and given to the bottle an eluded cure, for which the dagger bleeds a sonnet into waters corrupted by tainted lies

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s