My Imaginarium

Graffiti Feast Hall

The morphing silhouette surrounded by the uninterrupted line of thought. Vengeance for the tribe of Judah. Metamorphosing  into the stagnant beat of the pale skin drum. The particle segment, melodic and infantile- raising blood to never forget the blood it come from, to steal the blood of others and cause them to forget. Forgetting, why? Introduced to the universe at birth, we are the eyes of it, and the ears, but not the mouth. From the mouth came demons, leaving 30 corpses a night, shadowed by their own embarrassment. Wandering the marshes and wetland wooded glade. Mother is the ocean, father is all flame. The relatives of darkness, the cousin of fame. The graffiti apartment and the raided feast hall, sit atop the bleeding hill, built for the crying sky. Destroyed for protection.