Through that crack in the mirror I can see something coming out, while something else is going in. Part of my sanity, part of my soul, part of my dreamlike mind.
What unearthly creature have I unleashed? Who have I awoken from its slumber?
I feel how it drains me, how it pours liquified darkness into my skull, how it feeds my brain with images of death and decay.
December is overrated.
Writing, Reading, Living, but mostly Hiding 