[morning blues..]

Despotic lust? Crimson love? One might stare into the abyss wondering whether it could be said to be true.. Sad tale be told by the one who once chanced upon the winner,only left with bitter sorrow pieces of lost fragments; flotsams.let it be known that his intentiions were pure. Heart throbbing leg quivering; hopelessness. At times to the very least sporadic, at times to the very most ear shattering. Apologetic dispositions won't get him far but as his final line of defence, disadvantaged by options he only had so few to begin with.. It was over before he could even begin... All he could ever possibly fathom was to be given a second look. Slip of tongue common in this age of tacklessness... Reality hit him hard... Standing alone. Cold. He casted his aze upon the cold aluminium seats.. he desperately seeked what was amiss... amidst drowsy and caffeinated strangers.. exude a sighful retreat...being none the wiser.. the fool evident and clearly standing more like an idiot collapsed...