The Bullfighter:
It is not lost on me, that transient disbelief in sold out bargains,
liquid assets that dry up in muddy ponds after the rains of glory cease fighting the sun.
Yes, I have one trick left in my dog and pony show. The pundits will rail at this,
excitement of breaths unerringly mingling with salivary slanders. Sinz, you dog of warriors,
cast from metal and stone, crushed in vevet overlayd crimson magnitude of fires hellish abandon.
We will you to trestle rock, bear the load of supersonic trains on steel girths.
We travel on the high drifts of calamity, and rush to mark your demise on our calendars of incrimination. Ha! But I cannot please the lifeless
jungle mass’s quest for blood in cold streets. I cannot be beat. I cannot lose.
I do not strive to conquer or win, any battle is of inconsequence. I have already won.
Let the confusion reign in the halls of the disparate lingerers of anarchy.
The question is the underbelly of my freedom. I ask , but I already know the answer.
Thank you, my benefactors of freedom, I walk in the arena of the undaunted. – Sinz