Storming The Castle

Magnetic zaps into each other like fatal car wrecks.  Swirling peaking torches of flickering electricity.  Climbing limbs upon inspired flesh.  Biting and scratching and ceremoniously swapping intentionally drawn blood.  Manifestations of wonders previously laughable.  Chiseling at each other’s brains with non-sterile ice picks.  It is all in the eyes.  In the late night insomniatic ramblings.  It couldn’t happen without every participant.  Every idea a bitten up piece in a teetering Jenga tower.  Every incoherent misguided suggestion.  All for the foggy yet inevitable end game.  Soon we will reap the ridiculous spoils.  We will roll around naked in the blinding jagged gems and burnt dollar bills.  The insignificance will pass.  The glory will slink around us in the dead of night.  In a cheap hotel at our darkest moment, right at the brink of the last inhalation of hope.  She will present herself as a porcelain geisha on a winged centaur.  And we will follow her into the dusty mountains that only now block our rightful golden kingdom.

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One Response to Storming The Castle

  1. OysterSunshine says:

    So, there is hope, right??

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