Roams for a rest backcountry prepossessed cannot in itself destroy or complete near shades of extortion where sorrows meet. Like terror, is an arsenal for availing freedom. Old weapons appropriate oceans of sky waterwheel blooms and swoons alongside. While bloody-minded makes mudholes loves unnameable treasons rejolt turns and burns a migratory bulls-eye running half wild. Beauty scurrying from lonely mayhem lies delinquent starkly in wait for doubles snapping thunderbolts to spasmodically incinerate. As sorrow aches to trust – and anguish turns to lust.