gothic solitude (Remove filter)
slowly
Slowly
Slowly cutting myself to pieces
I become smaller, less insignificant,
reduce myself to nothing.
Darkness glides into my vision,
light lifts my soul from my desiccated flesh.
Looking down I see my body and the ruin
of my civilisation, a hollow shell.
I journey to gothic solitude,
to a place called Evenfall.
Tuesday 25th February 2014 7:44 pm
Recent Comments
Marla Joy on Lions Land.
1 hour ago
Greg Freeman on Dominoes
1 hour ago
M.C. Newberry on Combe Gibbet
2 hours ago
Ian Whiteley on Citizens
2 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on Sashaying to Byzantium
2 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on IT AIN'T ME, BABE
2 hours ago
Auracle on Festive FM
4 hours ago
Tim Higbee on Grandfather
5 hours ago
TobaniNataiella on She Says Goodbye
6 hours ago
R A Porter on Sashaying to Byzantium
8 hours ago