The Walking Dead

     "Urrggghh"           He wasn't sure what that was. He couldn't be sure. How could he? His mental ken was heaving a salient sigh he couldn't register. He tried to make meaning of them to no avail. His patience was being smothered into confetti as the bounty brain mocked the rusty realization he was arriving at. He raised his hampered hands. He was sure of the recent feelings. It was something he could relate to. It was something that kept reaching at the cleavages of his consciousness. But cowtowing was some hibernated jiggery-pokery. He couldn't bring himself to doing that. He tried hard to and wouldn't sway. But the sewn stance of throbbing thoughts caught up with him and rent his rage. Consciousness was supplanted. &nb

     "You were a poet few moments ago, right?"          He wasn't sure what few moments ago meant to him.  He wasn't sure if what the bounty being had said what actually what he'd meant. Greasing guesses was not the best thing to confide in at the moment. He needed something more than that. How could such creature had attributed his past as though it was but some figment of inky imagination? Like he was some nocturnal gnome? Probably mystic monster with broad waist and churning chest meant to say that he was dead. He'd simply taken him from the shore he'd been. It hadn't been more than that, and diving into the cubicle of the water's heart to what looked like a castle, he'd wielded such question.        Even if he was a poet some whiles ago, as the monster had mused, was there any complications to that? But was a while ago tantamount to death in the