My hate, my very own monster. A cross legged despair, a parrot pecking himself. A black hole deep in the space sucking everything but the darkness. With nothing but yellow leaves of autumn coming out on the other end.
An outcast from the land of the real, deep in the desert of dreams.
Can you hear that music from afar? A drummer drunk with madness?
A bitterness follows deep inside the shallow woods. Carrying a torch that says: seek the thunder. I have touched its soft cheeks. The tender calling of madness with a heart made of an eerie black spiral that goes deeper and deeper.
A green-shielded companion ready to be burned. What a true friend. As the smoke rises and you can inhale its soul, it’ll possess you and it will guide you.
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