Hardened drapes that plaster flesh to soft concrete. Dancing lights on the walls balk at the audacity of darkness. Quiet screams of tumbling thoughts, hitting wet stairs of sweat that flood imaginative loins. Tousling piles of flexible chains into position of carved out screens, as sentimental images of ravaged lands give frozen expressions permission to move.

You can watch the heart beating on a ceiling that drips blood if the night echoes sounds from wailing trees. Voices from below merge into murmured slurs, as tempos stagnate with pressure from rising hours. Lightbulbs squint for attention underneath closed doors. Running water can be the template of a symphony that guarantees aliveness in the sullen mood of alone.

Fractured limbs of an old clock keep responding to the ticking, even after the hosts have been buried under a pile of sunken rags. Placid eyeballs survey blackness of obstinate sockets, that can suddenly break into an emotional carnival. Fast moving characters bearing vibrant scars that open and close depending on the rush from swings, can almost lure to tepid calmness.

Bootlegged spirits float around the sailing vessel on a descending stream that lifts your body with false sense of shallow movements. The senses can allow for the most succulent dishes, scrambling for the prize of exhausted foolery.

Visionaries can create masterpieces in the dullness of vibrant nothingness.

When the rays hit chilled cheeks with scant flashes of summoned willpower, that’s when the riser glows in repose.

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