Too late for the twenties ticked
into the next moment of a war that left a lack of discovery
Can the the adventurer’s covering cower in the true face of doom
A gloom more morbid as the hairy drunk writer wanders in lust
Writing tales of whales and water warriors that won’t stop.
Quests that have nothing to do with chores
Or the chores of a battle won.
A heretic in his divorced Catholic wife’s eyes.