• Glacial, celadon slopes glare menacingly, plagued by jagged boulders as black as a smoker’s lethargic lungs.
    Gusts of wind furiously rush, leaving behind trails of melted memories
    passed by without so much as a glance.

    Each pitch-black shard- another roadblock.
    Flowing memories seem to disguise the troubles that stay in solitude,
    thrust into the terrain- previously destined to impale daring dreams.

    Frantic rhythm of constantly grinding teeth and thumping heartbeats is so loud
    that this demented mound is forced to chant its sinister tones.
    Now, cowering from it’s own wretched song, the landscape takes refuge underneath a sepia tent.

    It couldn’t have known that in the end, everything would turn out to be so shaky.
    As the hills are devoured, shards and all, remnants dive deep into the umbrage of the neurotic, spiral that once supported their tyranny.

    In time, even this seemingly noble sanctuary is gobbled right up.
    There is no rest.
    There is no peace.
    There is only hectic insecurity left when the last drop of the frigid matrix is finally
    consumed.