a bereft blackness
without a candle of hope
settles when death knocks
‘Pay! Sirrah, thou with the countenance of bibulous water, stand out from yon metal horse. I swear by the fair Dulcinea, my hands shall beat thee respect.’
Sancho sighed to the taxi-driver, ‘Tis ever, a mistake to time voyage.’
The driver was just thankful, it wasn’t that Terminator again.
Random Word: A good chance