The plunge into madness complete, the visions suspect at best. One moment, the day is clear, white puffy clouds filling a sky so blue and bright, it burns the fingertips of the soul. In just an instant the same world plummets into darkness, a void in which nothingness reigns supreme, from a throne forged from tear stained, black ice.
Reason has abandoned all hope. Logic and calm abandoned ship, just after the maiden voyage. Leaving confusion, fear, and anxious bubbles the size of blood soaked cannon balls.
In the throws of defeat, delusions most grand, offer a fleeting sense of immortality, an eternal promise. Like the soft, supple, swell of a young woman’s bosom.
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Ron Lanham Writing 