Emotionally obliterated, in contrast to the deathly hues of the night.
There is no room for a white knight.
Only villains and thieves run free here.
It is scenes such as these where I crave loneliness.
Unannounced to the world in sweet, shimmering solitude.
Feeding off the dreams of the insane, consigned to oblivion.
These leaves crack beneath my feet yet my backward steps are muffled.
Regret and disillusion innately marred;
Filtered through eyes of clandestine deceptions.
Is this why we’ve centered within each other?
We both watch as the Rorschach images writhe and pulse to the beats of our broken hearts.
My palm now carries the weight of your burdens.
So that you may begin anew.
And light the fires that line these paths of redemption.
I’ll leave a trail with the blood from my own hemorrhage.
For memory and direction if I become forsaken.
– 1985 AD.