Hi-ho and hello.
Silence evades my keep, it’s where the blaring horns never seem to cease. A facade to the ears of might and glory, when all it is is a banshee’s scream. Clouded judgements remind of something unclear in the decades past but it’s miles out of reach, too far for even a glance, a glimmer of hope doesn’t make an invite.
Season tides, a winters longing sigh, the summer stench of what burns under the sun flaming, burning, churning.
C’est La Vie
NOSCE TE IPSUM
‘Know Thyself‘
Dream Dark Stories 