It's rouge, fattish voice colouring up my red. Water then sun then sun then water rusted to crack some light at brim, it crumble then scrumbles like a medicated drug, it's a quite place, my hallucination similar to my home of illusion, where I lived without this mix red. Dark wasn't a faultless place, this light exposes so much dirt, but light can't swipe it out, just shows me it's all I own. This quiet is loud, enough to make me deaf.
