Ah mornings, devoid of any flavour. If this morning were a gas it would be 'argon'.
Banal, characterless and drab. Minus the vigor or even rigors.. blob of banality that hangs in suspended animation; throughout the day.
Night comes, day begins and every second is a flat tone of colorless sounds.
I nosedive in alliterations marked under 'random' tombstones and resuscitate, rejuvenate and rejoice; marveling at strings of sonorous sickle song words, that slaughter and restore.
Hearts
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