By an unknown crossed door of brightness the dark imaginary watchings meet its findings stripped from all the flaring grips of falling out from this one second to the next, the closer I come to you.
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
By an unknown crossed door of brightness the dark imaginary watchings meet its findings stripped from all the flaring grips of falling out from this one second to the next, the closer I come to you.