Slighty Sober

Holding taught to Agamemnon sources. As though your battle. Your war could be won or lost by virtue of your best deceit.

Are they all?

Slightly drunk. Slightly sober. Maybe a little more. Preferred by the morning, the night obeys.

It tastes cold, but heat is too threatening.

It is dark, but I'd rather not see.

Portraits lost in broken rhyme. The somber jurisdiction that life pervades. Villain after villain belaying their crimes. With slow ropes and heavy hands. It's all within our grasp, but our fingers have failed us yet again.

Gripping raw everything we think we have. Only to find there's nothing there.