Pledge One’s Troth.

ㅤㅤ “THE FRAGILE GALLOP.” Q.17-10 / SHARP OF ILL The pick-and-shovel end of an impermanent lovelorn, blood flowing in a shambles and a polar kind of arete—delusional. A heartbeat of gloom took causatum, lethargy enraptured, and it was painful to bounce around in oddments of aches. I am separate by a ground, discarded upon laborious hole that bleeding as a gore. ㅤㅤ ㅤ