maximusdoom

I can hear the music, playing in my head... That brick wall melody, that leaves me dry and bled. Back out, unsound, way past The naive embrace, clutched like the withering vine, so doubted in commonplace. That sorrowful harmony, with mysterious limbs running like mad through my mind, so dim with fog. In my wake do I hear that music of the morbid and downtrodden sound... Sweet, the symphony of my imagination... the chaos, although so profound. Stained, my face with the misery Of this occupation of thought, not much, yet the burdens are stiff within the acidic net, am I forever caught.