A subtle drink in a moment, where the sounds grow quiet in a world growing ever darker, ever more quiet as ever more heads lay themselves down on ever more pillows.
There is a fine and delicate line one walks in pursuit of peace or silence. Those who confuse the two shall often find little peace, and only momentary silence.
Burned long ago by the fire of future, what was is no longer.
A parasite lurks among us.
A parasite not visible at first, for it keeps itself hidden.
It holds a form similar to us, but foreign all of its own.
Yet it insists it is of us, one of us, and belonging to us.
I had a dream last night. Onw which woke me from a deepened sleep that had been started with a soft and subtle flame across the room from where I slept.