Surely night atmosphere rots forever bleak. It’s nourished by wounds in silence speak. Confined to a journey destined to inspire and examined in a fortress of fire. A descent to waters red with limbs at their core that’s feared by the ghost and his savage score. She tethered her hair to a sinking ship. A shapeless canvas fed the thunder with an acre of shade. From white marble mortality carved. These worlds of light removed the mask from invisible trance. Thorns glowing gold as serene skin that promised us a d**hlike release at the corpse of sundown. Frozen forms behold oneself. Lying with guillotines conscious. Creasing across voided faces. Miracles shall melt as dying prayers. Worms haunt ghosts we trace. Promise this dread a release. As we lieth in thought. To do us harm they wish not. Traverse the painted palace to a swamp solace submerged with unusual shapes absent from earthly sight. As we lieth in thought. To do us harm they wish not. Wounds immaculate. Condemnation never to fade from bodies scorned to masquerade. Their coffin stare that’s pale as stars like human forms all born to scars.