Render the opponent immobile. What kind of dream has led to this? It brings me here. When attacking your prey, your enemy, you must stun them, you must leave them useless. I awake and immediately think of formation. Pounce. Leave your audience flapping. Lost. If they are powerless to stop you. Maybe they are disarmed through the element of surprise. Once they were unarmed, weaponless creatures, living on farms, in villages. What kind of a dream. It becomes reality. It appears to be my madness. Pin the devil to the wall. In one move. Swift, fluid, with no room for failure. Execution. To perfection. Divine. Poetry. Dark, dark, majestic poetry. Nail the coffin shut. In one move. Two wings. The pincer movement.
No comments:
Post a Comment