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#ligh
All I manage to catch are glimpses. Peepholes through time and space. Small ravels of memories I had before this time, before this space. I try to catch them, but they’re always out of grasp. Like the light that filters through the rustling leaves of the tree. Appearing and disappearing without a moments notice. I go towards these memories, hoping to achieve them, but I’m always pulled back down to the memories I possess now, that stretch over the ones before, and I forget. I forget who I am, and I remember who I am not.
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Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 8:38 PM UTC
Peepholes
Wretched wickedness. Robed in synthetic skins. Contorted are all. Of there limbs. The chaos swallows them. Swallows them whole. While shadows are dancing; Inside six foot holes. ............................................ pyxhonaut. Reality is lost. ***** when cough. Up four nights. With no sleep. Hide the mirrors; with sheets. .......................................... In trance. In darkness black; The lonely manic. Laughs; Arm slashed; Craft masochistic acts. Insane; Destructive ways; LeAves soiled floors bloodstained. We burn the flesh; Over candles hot flame. (RepeAt)
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 8:17 AM UTC
Bazaar craft of the pychonaut
*** *** - Virtue restores, vices destroys - *** ***
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Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
V