Micah Park Biffle

Present your soul with a gift A Man's Traveled Heart The Victim Of Sheep In an instant it was gone, all of it. The wolf had sank its teeth into what breath was left. And I, helpless to the scene before me. I watched in horror as the sound of flesh was pierced by pearled teeth, eyes glaring from darkness. All was taken, all was forsaken. My heart became ill but I could set no motion into existence. For it was not I whom became the victim of the sheep. I was not the one whom'd screamed for freedom but lived in feign. Acting to be a scarecrow of sorrow, left alone in the fields of misery. For I pulled myself from the withering corn and led myself to the open grains of wheat. And as blood gushed from paling flesh, it spilled in rhythm from the mouth of the wolf. And the teeth held strong, as the sheep squirmed with little resistance. But no panic came from me, for some fall victim to their own annihilation. Following the trail of paralyzed. Listening too closely to their...

The Death Of The Impolite Ardinal, Upon his arrival places his bags by the concierge desk. His eyes scanning the hotel with an utmost pretentious glare. Seeking deficiencies in the hotels composition, snarling under his breath at the most minuscule defects. A mere bulb is out in the chandelier that hangs with a magnificent purity of architecture. It hangs between the stairs of the hotel that leads upstairs as if open arms. His chest puffing in an appalling position. His hand tapping at his chin in command to find what else could be wrong in this place. He sniffs the air as if smelling a rose. Upon the ingestion of air, he smells a slight pungent smell, a smell of old cigarette smoke mixed with the now sweet scent of melon. Instantly he flares his nostrils in disgust. Covering his mouth, he makes a slight posture as if to upchuck in his throat. He turns his head back to the front desk and places his hand over the calling bell. He begins to vigorously press the palm of his han...