Drift upon the wind...A sea of sequelity unable to live up to expectation...
Only looking into the hour glass from outside the hour...
Without a minute to spare..
Spores of tendons bounce to the beat of the dead drum...
Leeching lessons of festive nonsense...
Alienation like no nation of Trumps and puppets...
Seize the quintuplets and even though the five are alive,
It's not the number of completion...
Brain cells swirl into infinity...
Dark matter is the divinity...
While the blood runs black as night...
Oozing from every orifice...
Purple haze...
In a daze...
As the life drains out into the monstrosity sealed within this skin.
Bathed in dread.
Maculate.
A beautiful macabre.
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