There’s a feeling in the air that clings like mist that shrouds the canopies of mountains.
A dismal grey area blossomed by the residuals of negativity.
Mass-incarceration of the mind, while the guard gains control.
Prisoners flee through the night as the eyes succumb tiredly.
Verbose complaints.
Sprays of sin that shatter as if the bowl was never cracked.
The trees whip in ferocity,
The wind builds as each shout thrust itself like the tongue of a cobra.
Snapping at the outer edges of each aura.
Inundated, seeing red.
War against the self, became encouraged.
The only building block to resolution,
as peace dissolved.
Each layer of communication stripped,
as if the whole earth had lost its crust,
and suddenly there was no nourishment to be found.
Magma moved like floods.
Lone survivors hiding at the top of the rocks.
Heat became the waves.
A once global oasis,
this concept seemed to had died within the torrent of mankind’s dismal little spats.
The Earth revoked the warning.
The Hermit at the peak of the mountain lusts, just to see another snowflake.
The snowflake that flourished in privacy.
Segmented lies.
Only to hold blind, in comfortability.