fibula now

My yellow belly is beating

Red diamond shards like tiny blood soaked hearts in a candlelit hallway with but an exit. The only remains of a peak frequency and a frail glass of red wine. evidence of a previous composure perturbed or pierced like a pebble through a mountain pond, once tranquil, purposing depth in relflection. Eternal stillness torn asunder by a little round rock cast about by some weary soldier without so much as a name whos finally heading home if only he could just hold to the road. His red diamond heart is the candlight and all of this is revealed by that tiny flickering flame