Red

Run through my veins, I see naught but red. Red. Red.

Non inultus premor

The balm of my soul of late has been to record my thoughts, literally, instead of writing them down. It leaves little room for trying to decide which approach works better and allows for more honesty to pour in. What little peace this affords me I hunger for madly, for morsels are as feasts to me. I am a beggar, in more ways than one. I am also one who seeks vengeance. Non inultus premor.

Things We Lost in the Fire

Cast the crown at my feet I am Prince no longer

Bandwagon

Overheard at Fully Booked earlier:

Conyo Kid 1: Hey look -The Great Gatsby. We should read The Great Gatsby.

Conyo Kid 2: Yes! It's a cool book about Time Travel.

Poor Spiral died a little inside.

Peasants

Alas the paupers who think their deeds fairer than their liege. Alas the housemate that complain loudest that there is nothing to eat. Because he knows not how to fucking cook.

Coldsnap

It comes unbidden, coating everything in rime.