I Am Become a Garden: Destroyer of Worlds
I wake up in a garden of time
The horizon falls into itself
Reclusive enough to fold into a shell.
And Collapse.
The snail that carries the garden of time isn’t much for conversation, He, of ageless expression and judgement buried deep within his eyes. To carry the weight of it all, he asks for nothing more than the occasional pat on the back. Shelly he should be known as, and what exactly he stands on top of isn’t really ever known.