samuel-mcloughlinWhisper

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Oath of the Grammar ****I am a swordsman of the mind. My blade, Language, and logic. / It’s purity glints in the sun. It’s truth, a razor edge. / With a deft flick of my tongue, crimson lines appear, blood beads.
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RingmasterPeople say that I'm foolish, / a bundle of velocity. / These magnificent stylings,
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1.8k
Marmite on toast.Longing, encapsulated culinarily. / Crisp, crumbling. / Buttery.
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1.6k
Candyfloss DreamsThe subtlest nuance of cherry blossom, / Drifting down into the banks of my memory, / Twisting miniature pirouhettes.
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Pyromania Day.The relentless sound of the sky exploding, shattering into a thousand shards. / Flashes of light overhead, trench Romanticism at play. / Oxygen becomes smoke, sulfur watered eyes.
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ObsessionRows of red, and blue and green, / Confectionary ordered pointlesly, / Only to fall, one by one,
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SenselessnessI'm hidden, nothing but these scars, / These sheltered lives, in sheltered cars, / Speed to sheltered homes and then,
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BombaCrawling, twitch. Sobbing Char. / Twisted metal, broken car. / Lifeblood spilt, conscience torn.
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NighthawkThis cool forgiving breath, / This wondrous night. / As blue eyes flash,
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Frontal DentSlice thy mind, donate. / Thy flesh that of the state. / We bred you, raised you. Go hate.
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