a singe script runs down the city.
Thought’s of weight. pulling them up, brings mental strength—the mind is of heavenly ruins. The bloody emotions rain down by the steel-half-buildings. whilst the hopeful lifting may bring an ideal future worth living for. May the ruins rebuild, the blood cease a dripping; may the pools of emotions de-liquify before the white lighting of my heart, presenting a projection of a foundation, a settlement shall be built upon the light. May a heavenly-green-glow always light the area protecting the heavy thoughts so they should not plummet once more. As the thoughts construct a utopia. With two projections lighting the darkness of the town.
A typhoon exits the TV, bringing in another victim. From the top of a typhoon. The wind spirals, the lights flicker, the curtains draw in. Whilst the man claws the TV in his “final” scene, as the violent green wind spirals him inwards. leaving markings, on his box, shattering him, morphing him into a two-dimensional sitcom.
a painted face of happiness; looking beneath the surface, there’s much more to see -
I run from out of the camp. While doing so, I notice various lights surrounding the near dark area. They seem like they’re trying their hardest to light up the easiest of areas...they’re trying hard, but their efforts are unnoticed. Everyone is now inside with their houses, using the diamond of a rock. Pieces of the rock flow around the area with the snow, changing the way I operate slightly. I progress over the hill, at a casual rate. The witch gave up after she saw me leave. I have a feeling she knows I'll be back....
As I face the witch, I move in a little closer so I can show her something that matters deeply to me and should matter to her.
Her brain is fast, her knowledge is vast. I project my own illusion of one of the times we’ve shared. As she studies the image, she's in awe. A tear falls from her eye. Her face transforms to craziness, then she's back to herself…
her stomach rumbles…I see, angelic signs all around me. She’s presenting herself as symbols that I understand well (I remember during my birthday she gave me different gifts). They all were symbolic to me in different ways—so I studied each one well. They're kept within the brain, the weakness of the witch; her blueprints to the witch's self-destruction. I may only separate the angel from the witch with them. They're one of the pieces to defeat her, as I see multiple symbols throughout the room. I then hear her whispers from the abyss.