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When the sun slumbered beyond the falling horizon, a deranged mentor of those it wondered over below. False expressions were given in tribute to that which watched with acidic smiles of their   persecution beneath its gaze. In its fading they were collected in truest outline. Negatives of perceived imaginings, pigmentation descended from form like coloured petals turning to dust. They were the abattoirs of this now discoloured imaginings. Sweetened voices of lullabies were replaced by disorientated shrills, that reverberated within the halls, they lumbered in there contorted abodes. Nesting into corners of despair that blossomed on them with hues of isolation. Feasting on warm carcasses, weeping with trepidation at this momentary freedom they felt. There home of tattered souls that were cleaved from prey, no peace in death. They hang at the windows clinging to lost hope. Time was a nine tailed mistress that whipped them into the binding once more. For the arising was upon them, they were lacerated within colour once more. All that was flaked away and became as it was. Smiles on there faces paying tribute to that above.
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Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
Deranged Teletubbies
When the sun slumbered beyond the falling horizon, a deranged mentor of those it wondered over below. False expressions were given in tribute to that which watched with acidic smiles of their   persecution beneath its gaze. In its fading they were collected in truest outline. Negatives of perceived imaginings, pigmentation descended from form like coloured petals turning to dust. They were the abattoirs of this now discoloured imaginings. Sweetened voices of lullabies were replaced by disorientated shrills, that reverberated within the halls, they lumbered in there contorted abodes. Nesting into corners of despair that blossomed on them with hues of isolation. Feasting on warm carcasses, weeping with trepidation at this momentary freedom they felt. There home of tattered souls that were cleaved from prey, no peace in death. They hang at the windows clinging to lost hope. Time was a nine tailed mistress that whipped them into the binding once more. For the arising was upon them, they were lacerated within colour once more. All that was flaked away and became as it was. Smiles on there faces paying tribute to that above.
#dark#twisted#negative#deranged
poetic-t
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poetic-t
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
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