Repercussions

Seated and garbed in silence of the solitude of the confines of walls and scepters, I ponder on the woes fruiting from naught but a wee moment of cherished fulfillment

A boot to the jaw preceeds the rattling of his Mr White, a sweet prelude to the gore of red and enamel on asphalt. The eagle swoops and grabs me its prey through the rigours of the wig until I'm seated and garbed in silence

Now the only rattling is of bars, the only boots those of the eagles. Dreary and forlorn, I look on to the bills to be free again but for a while I'll be seated and garbed in silence.