Image from deviantart.com
Looking on my side, seeing the scenery I’m used about; the world seems to downgrade onto my feet. Sceneries of my mind are falling down, the immediacy is too significant into the world I live in. Opening scenes of imagery are contrasting with the violet vision of durability in space of forms. Looking thru the window and seeing nothing of import, that’s my visionary looking glass, a fake of time. Haven’t seen a good friend for a long time, spending time with lonely thoughts of breaking pieces into broken grubs.
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