The wind is slammin’ my trailer, that eerie howl echos across the lake, and there’s no one,
not a soul, not even a bug, to look to and divy the fear. I dig myself into the rafters of that low
ceiling of mirthless clementine reluctance to cave to the beast, and faith is the emptiness of that
shallow intemperance, a mere speck of sand shows to the ocean of veiled horizons. – Sinz