The Day Before. (Undergoing Re-Writing as 01/11/22) (Sequences 1-4 finished)

THE IN-BETWEEN. THE COLD AND DARK WORLD. PART 2.

The In-Between. The Cold and Dark World. Part 2.

Ashes fall from the sky above, again, barely touched—this battleground yet torn apart, and left to burn. Decay, like our minds in a way. In a state that it is alike in the way from that day that makes it seem as if it is okay, and this battleground is clean. But it screams out so loud that our ears want to bleed, and washes away our hope and our dreams.

Drowned, wretched woe. For foe and foe we have so told. Survivors of something that gets sinister fast, the life, the way too old they're troubles last. We walk in shame with a limp and a busted cane, broken and spit out, hit and hollowed, bellowed, followed. I almost forget. God forgive me for where I sit. I just faint to the restrain, and a powerful hit, the one I meant.

This desire of mine, an episodic state. Mindful how, no—sorry woe.

I can't move. The energy stuck, the glowing moon. The dust that shoots from the skulls that bust the runes, the empty tomb for the sickened soon.

The ice it stays. The ice it freezes. The ice is the water beneath the land that sees no thaw for seasons, reasons and rules, and knows no cold like the cold of thaw. Thawing maw, the maw they draw from the freezing cold. Knowing, no.

The lurking shadows, monstrously huge. The meadows, stirred and barren, yellow and abused. I cannot lay my horses here, the grave that was dug was way to clear. The head of Mary, seven dead. The fear I lead now, now forever greed.

The meadow shakes. In need it makes, decreed it takes the dead it needs. He breaks up from the ground he breeds, now he makes me moan my name. It sheds it's skin, voices of other men. The men are angry, the anger it sins. The sin it sends the message to me, the message is key.

I holler the words of the disturbed into the gaping mouth of the accursed. The eyes blacken, and turn to ash. The ash covers now everything left.