A palace built with brittle bones; so easily fractured. Yet in time souls will walk upon the ash under Pluto's careful watch. Death will rise from its slumber and surrender to the will of the living no more.
A vault of riven dreams will open and from within the cry of corpses will be heard.
born from a love of fantasy, i thought about what would happen if a necromancer could no longer control the dead he has summoned.
they know where tobacco grows and why I forgot to put down the pants I heard the drowning underwater I afraid whether the outer limit gets closer I never put any elbow in it to play with water to add some fire and as a last caress against the dark halfdom of space I'll do my best watch celestial bodies and say I've seen it thousand times I ought to guide you toward necropolis because I have two missed calls both yours
dead upon dead to the left and the right no fire to warm us no more spark no more light the even' has come the desert dry night the only thing living is the burgeoning kite
the only ruler is a king with no crown the lowly court jester wears a red mask'd frown some courtiers have starv'd some courtiers have drowned but as for the people there's no one around
pile upon pile of mouldering bones some make up spires some make up thrones femurs the mortar skulls are the stones some lattice triangles some steepled in cones if you're in this city you're truly alone
a skeleton rides on a decaying horse it has no conscience it has no remorse it needs no permission but uses no force where is this city?