I breathe, deep and low, breathing a warmly lit cavern, the earth a soft bed like velvet and plush. The exhale moves like an autumn breeze skipping along a summer afternoon against sun-kissed skin. Beyond each breath is a faint tremor, a rattle in the lungs that border on ragged. The strength of a light curtain against a torrent of ghoulish winds as the breaths dwindle, wracked and weak. Such is fear. The enormous tide of judgment crashing against a crumbling levy of sandy hope, a sodden dune. It thrashes down, whipping resolve, implanting seeds that spew vile doubt like a toxin seeping link ink across the tracks of your skin. Dying and staining each crevice, the mark of the condemned collapsing in upon themselves in a flurry…

I've gone back to paragraph writing. I have found that the rhyming verse doesn't help with being able to move the narrative along and has made me focus on a smaller picture - not a bad thing. I just want to expand on the picture a little more and allow it to grow. So, for now, I'm going to go back to free writing!

I'll probably flit back and forth between the styles as I feel the need to while I'm working through songwriting.