Thursday, March 21, 2013

And at even that he would fail

The stream of lies trickles at the feet of Nicene's ascent.  A polluted drain clogged with the words and wonders Aloysius gave away.  Rainbow hued oils that choked the fish, his grief.  The ragged plastic on the rocks his potential left to sloth.  No king or hero for his Tuvstarr, Aloysius was a wanderer.  And at even that he would fail.

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