As I stand — in the stillness of the night, buried in
contemplation, a tombstone looms above my head piercing
into an idea, with these horns; to charge directly at vivid
imagination. Shrouded in the night’s dead darkness; the
only colours that dance around are the deep, dark hues
that cling to my black horns – _tainted._
Formless creatures haunting the silhouettes of all dreams
their fragmented forms concealing hidden depths and
buried truths — echoes of old traumas from the days of
youth, a troubled youth, long neglected – _abused._
The more these horns are trimmed, the longer they seem
to stretch – spiralling directly into my vision; all I
perceive is darkness.
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 4:40 PM UTC
As I stand — in the stillness of the night, buried in
contemplation, a tombstone looms above my head piercing
into an idea, with these horns; to charge directly at vivid
imagination. Shrouded in the night’s dead darkness; the
only colours that dance around are the deep, dark hues
that cling to my black horns – _tainted._
Formless creatures haunting the silhouettes of all dreams
their fragmented forms concealing hidden depths and
buried truths — echoes of old traumas from the days of
youth, a troubled youth, long neglected – _abused._
The more these horns are trimmed, the longer they seem
to stretch – spiralling directly into my vision; all I
perceive is darkness.
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