Just a moment, I can't quite grasp your hands that's skips away. Just a minute, let me process everything that is being said. Just second, let's me save whatever happening.

Cause between these lines I've left unsure

What if I'm just your road, your sideways, your bridge to journey?

Not the beginning not an ending, just a moment.

#post

Only one chair and it gets lonely up there. Rusted old throne that I once thought as a dark rose colored gold. From a far, I could see it shinning with blood and bones crooked in a thousand swords and words. I could foresee devastation and disdained out of all desperation out there. No kings will tell the truth under those cushioned pillow where needles prick your back rotting bare.

Whoever sits there are doomed to despair by the deaths of the lives it took. Decietful lies battered by it's facade - only it wasn't. It was their music urging you dance with their ghost. Whistling you to tune with them within their nightmares. Digging on their coffin and skeleton placing ritual curses.

You'll hear their screams at night like a grand orchestra, their drums are battlefield march, their soulful cries as their melodies for violentic performance of dancing on the nailed shoe while one foot is on grave. They'll paved, on their lives that are hanging on the strings of a lyred played by the devil. As every painful note wrapped on their finger, are streaking you to the gutter.

All the lyrical last words said by the cutted out tounge they buried deep underground. Are raging of smoke, smell and sound. Clashed skulled fist and gun shot fired are ringing in it's timbre breaking the rhythmic collapse of their homes. Gracefully, it bombed all domes, setting spearing knife flying on the skies. Stabbing your gut, twisting your bones, stripping your skin on your naked body and groins. They'll set you ablaze like a candlelight, waiting for you to melt, on a center spot of a beguiling sight. Painted by outrageous dances and hearts of hatred.

And it will all end with colors of ashes in midway daytime. That will seep inside your eye, feeding on your brain, rotting in your flesh and vein, locking you in an inescapable ordeal. You'll never see festival, the same way again.

#post

Evening Festival