the glitter on the Cimmerian void outside was just cheerless.

up, up, in the sky so high. stars shining there so bright.

why is it that elation and happiness, is always so fleeting? maybe you knew what you had wanted, but yet, time and circumstance never congealed anything into fruition. the slippery sands shifts and disappears between the cracks of your fingers and down into the earth.

a candle sits in the middle of an outstretched palm. and its a lonely one, with the wax burned and melted down into a gooey mess. the blackened wick is gnarled with wasted hope. radiance, of the shimmering golden hope, sitting in the center of power; now covered in anonymity.

and you knew the face that was so fleeting. pass on by, and pass you by. you are just the passerby. like watching a scene from a bench in a public park, you're existing in a vacuum. you wanted to grasp it. but it was either your strength, or circumstance, or both, that failed you. but you couldn't decide which one it was.

no matter. you know the outcome of it anyway.

and they say that the midnight hour is the perfect time of day.

where all shadows melt away, giving rise to shades of shame and insanity that are flesh wound mementos burned into troglodytic eyes.

you walk, but you need no visuals anymore.

seeing is deceiving.