Route 7 Review - Page 76

In Somnis Veritas By John Stocks It is too late for fear her wolf is yellow-eyed sleek, suave, lupine. His poetry was predatory, it stalked, sought the soft spots inside her head. The wolf suckled her narcissism with his desire, his fine words, his flattery and fire. Though it was his desolation, that dragged her to his bed. She did not choose to be his muse. It was a mere transitory exposition of her vulnerabilityEach rasping, gasping breath a little death.