Broken promises, like a shattered hour glass of time bringing forth the end of all things coarse. Prepared deeply for the plan that we cannot see ourselves. Concealed in sticky adhesive, that we must reach in and pull with our fingers covered like a mummified corpse. The skin cracks from the walls of oblivion, the eyes protrude ever so violently out of the sockets of infinity. Spheres break, and blow from the weight of the pressure of implosion. The void filled with souls, it crashes forth like a wave filled echo.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger