Shivers crawling down the spine in spiral waves of noise
Gnawing light upon dried out eyes vomited through a hole
The putrid stench of idle souls and withered faces beneath worn out cowls from torn out robes
Alas!
This beauty of forced tears
Those crooked fingers and the end inbetween... this wistfulness full of woodworms becomes the baton for the choire
Take the hammer numb yourself and sleep