Once aligned to a frame of mind that viciously clouded logic for the earnest perseverance of equanimity, now shattered into the fractals of abusive intimacy that keeps my head forced below waters at the cost of my conscious. The corruption of power has debauched my moral compass into one of selfish endeavors. Courage must fall, and we walk blindly in the dark.
L A C O N I C
Numbing silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion. Through the maddening sound of quiescence, loneliness and solitude has found me as thorns dig into my flesh, threatening to suffocate my mind with the solace of inviolability. Through this silence, I found myself not wanting to be saved. Hope becomes an illusion through the blanketing silence of death.
“The metamorphosis of trauma is the filthiest."
"We cultivate omens and display them above in a series of twisting, gnarled branches. The Deadwoods cull all home."