Door ENTRANCE. And she’s stationary waiting for the invitation to extend And she walked with scarlet cloth, through the hallway of records SILENCE. Jung archetypes
Door EXIT. And she’s in the next room staring through a stained glass window And the paint is peeling from the frame between here and
Dapper. Crisp. Resembles no one. Arms race. Chest caves. Instant coffee sits idle. Jazz darkness. Lost in the hallway. Righteous. Wrong. Thinks like everyone. Background
Motionless – less than thankful. Contrary to brimstone Sermons. Plato; Cayce dimensional blueprints. Disappear into the light of the stray moon. This is official Project
Apatha Beneath the gates of heaven, the light is dim. Buried in deep sin I sing to the angels. I look for sympathy in the
I found a memory underneath a piece of wallpaper; it peeled into a capability of everlasting motion.
Cornerstone brow, ships clasp, stutters mountain… Lands.
Backdrop, vacant patterns.
No, the substance isn’t in that formation or the fertility of the ghouls.
Tear the cloth — induced love picked a corner to turn into a fairy tale.