Talking eyes, epicentre of torpor. Rain on an impatient web. Your hate sleeps in the incorporated grave of your contempt, its desire of being in action sleeps on the definiteness of your silence. Break the seals, don't bury your light.
Talking eyes, epicentre of torpor. Rain on an impatient web. Your hate sleeps in the incorporated grave of your contempt, its desire of being in action sleeps on the definiteness of your silence. Break the seals, don't bury your light.