Sitting upon this old stump
the middle of a forest
dampened with secrets
with actions
with words
with promises

A quiet place with such loud screaming.

At the end of every journey
I always end up here
Left in wonder
an itch inside my skull
a droning hum
a beating drum
hearken to the horrors
suffocate in bliss
ask yourself why

Flying voids and crescent catapults
slither up above.
This quiet place
so empty yet so full.