Chapter 1 – Base Effrontery

Words make a path to my

Tongue more silent and

Venomous than any sudden

Flood of tears.


Violent urges

Curl my fingers into fists.

Death grips me and gnaws

At my pride.

Fervid, I am –


Strung out across the boundaries

Of utopia

While the diabolical vicar


Must I grovel as you gibe?

My ephemeral folly

Finds me grappling

With infamy.

I find this affinity for evil

Base effrontery.

3 comments to “Chapter 1 – Base Effrontery”
3 comments to “Chapter 1 – Base Effrontery”

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