Grey.

I'm lying on the floor right now. The ceiling is making fun of me. The carpet always gets my back.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

Alien voices that underpin the entirety of their existence provide a battling footwork.

[z @zeeeenion]

How much pain fits inside a person?

[z @zeeeenion]

I died a lot to live a little with you.

[z @zeeeenion]

Everyone disappears.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

The smoky resin of breathing fumes, coughing children and the adolescent emphysema music the choir of misgiving, sick orchestra of portents.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

Walking on the forest floor is still a reliable wellspring of dense, intriguing set of thoughts.

[A Murder Of Crows @TheWellOfSongs]

Strange shapes in the shadows.

[A Murder Of Crows @TheWellOfSongs]

I did the math and I'll never stop loving you.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

A luciferous spherule in the apostate web of dark lines.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

I think I'm going to die in a box with lots of noise around me.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

An inkling of ionic pomposity, the lot are muggers, to exalt the philtre with demonic nuances and underscore the inbred allure of witchery.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

As I plea for the dusk to take me with it, to where the raucousness cannot go, I wonder if the train is a bullet or wind-stricken spore.

[ZeroSanctumVoid @ZeroSanctumVoid]

there will be words and then days, sometimes a year of silence will suffice

[A Murder Of Crows @TheWellOfSongs]

We're always spinning in space.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

I find it exciting to just let the moonlight pile up into little structures.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

@zeeeenion Oddly comforted by their fate.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

@zeeeenion A little breathing cabinet goes a long way.

[Grey. @PsyGrey_]

Lepers running like witches in the azotic mist of a memory veiled in the flaxes of commercial felicity, shirking their injuries for legions.