by LomzaMalt
originally published at 05:10AM on Friday, March 16, 2007

My eyes could only focus on an imperfection in the floorboards—a sort of buckle in which i ascertained sorrow encapsulated. It strained as i strained.

Without which i would have no recollection as I quite succumbed to the pressure of bronchial deficiancy in the face of immobility.

With each twist the pendulum swung to mark another second of pitiless prostrate incapacitation.




  • from Alexa ♥:

    I like the rhythmic beat of the prose.

  • from THX 0477:

    And some impressive 5 dollar words there. Check out the big vocabulary on LomzaMalt…I’ve heard of a chocolate malt, but a lomza malt’s a new one on me, brother.