Elicited margins of disturbed machinations ozze insatiably across the landscape of the mind gleaning traces of ornate passages stolen by groves of ghosts which are exhaled through the eyes, distance appears blind as crooked closets bind and don’t close. It can be heard if still, the whimpering of shadows of days gone by, burned by time, consumed by years, needfully forgotten and buried, smash the urn there is no need for reverence, the wick is long consumed and the devastation long past. The sprout stretches and unfolds with fresh never known growth exceeding the margins previously believed, even though tender this will become the weathered the unbreakable thee unmovable, thee unstoppable. Where all is reality and reality is all.
About the Creator
Johnny Gerbrandt
Love lifting, love writing, love designing. My journey is a strange one but I love it. learning constantly.
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