A book is a shark depicting the flight of ravens on the breath of ancients coined by the earth into indecipherable pigments. It carves a dream into the heart of the soul, a coffin and a grave carved of coral shoals. A ******* weaves its material into a sadist for a ******* again to weave gods from a tide, it implies.
My sanity is a car crash Wrapped in ticking cellophane Armed with the threat of cirrus clouds It threatens rubix avalanches. Hark, Hear the bells. Who Awakens?