remember that this will be over before a second hits the ground. remember that suffering is an ephemeral little thing. a little wren of ash. already broken before it even hatches. it will pass. like another storm. another falling tear.
I peer out the porthole into the chaos of the storm, Disorder, my sole companion
Blue waves crash along the jagged rocks sprays of melancholic gloom the wind howls sounding like the ghosts of past memories decayed wooden docks rotting from the salty air a wailing gust originates from the rusting iron of the ships hull a hex is placed on it’s journey as the shadowy vessel tears through the gloomy waters of its past
The past is only a memory, as I find myself once again in the company of madness