Bastille Challenge!

When Pompeii, O sweet Pompeii, is mentioned there’s bad news. The flaws of the poet haunt these streets so no angels live here now. The weight of living has proved too much and they always take the blame. I am overjoyed at the silence, so now my dreams can fill this basement. They are free, an adagio for strings, and I see durban skies and laughter lines. A sleepsong is tuning in and tuning out around me, and I find that I am falling. The draw pulls me into oblivion, and ahead of me, Icarus and Laura Palmer hold hands and get home, to run out of the night. A smell of bad blood surrounds me and I know that a killer stalks this campus, and I know that I’m Daniel in the den. This lion hunts me, eager to crush skulls with those powerful jaws and snap my bones with those horrendous teeth. I imagine that I am titanium, and tell myself forever ever that nothing can harm me. What would you do if you knew that a weapon was out to get you, on your walk to oblivion? They say that love don’t live here, but I awake in my blue jeans, and o holy night, am I glad to be thinking ahead. I could have just died in your arms, but you were one of the things we lost in the fire.