scratches on the mirror lose the certainty of pattern, the underlying randomness peeks through. the voice which speaks is silent, and profound meaning fades into the horizon as the distance from divine purpose yawns. the electricity of one being one dims. the eternal moment ticks, and is over.
i find sky is not the color of my thought. the earth was not raised to my front door. the dream subsides and the ghosts i befriended are revealed as shadows of unknown instincts. it is like dawn when the sky is grey. it is the doomsday clock that never rang.
ghost
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