Woorden:
And Hell Followed With Proprioception

With unease have I slept these past months. Her stride burning bright the confines of my dreams, the sleight of hand unleashing this perfection. To such

there is hope. There will always be hope And in my refusal to drown beneath the currents, I with calloused hands have reached into the abyss and drawn

what hands and through what means was this monstrosity, this endlessness entombed beneath the flesh of a man? This index of untold dimensions and length containing every moment and

difference between you and all the others aside from you being the alpha male of just a different pack of wolves. You said that this conflict would end with

acrid scent stinging my eyes, can never blind the love I possess. And in silence have I sworn to remain ardent and impassioned. And may no enemy encircling

It seeks to be released. The fragments of a once brightened disposition are blackened in misanthropic disgust of all that has unsettled from within.