Single Status Update
With internecine irony, the caustic winds of chance whip through my brain, stripping sanity from the remnants of reasons. Strewing feral flowers in its wake, like noxious seeds from some pernicious garden. The blessing shrouds a curse. As now, the tangent of our lives is linked and set, drawing closer still in diminishing circles. Each minute that I wait, each second's hesitation. The sword is sheathed. And so, the apprehension.