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The Day Sun Accumulates

The day sun accumulates, I venture into the woods of the eastern mountains, not a sound betrinkles to mine own ear, nor time to lend me its ears fain. For the dawn is like a dream doused into the bitter bloody cold of nightmares in the nefarious day that approaches. I take out my provisions, a compass I feel in the terminal of my pocket, this is which guide across long narrow passageways, to and fro I go the banister of my catholic church hangs like a chime or the pendulum of a clock going this way and that but softly caressed by the winds.

Journal Comments

  • MissKristy
  • johnr0x17
  • MissKristy
  • johnr0x17
  • johnr0x17