barren first the golden nest the budding breast bloated with mystical imaginary potential that paused in glory with thoughts of ghosts fled the ebbing unknown wound the disfigured prison of resonant debauchery seep seeping through cracks corroded with mold blissfully ignorant insanity misled prayers for sunshine in the hopeless godless cathedral of rapid time like a tsunami of death a roaring river of blood drowning the life out of all that was good drowning the life that was good drowning the life that was good that was good1