You start forgetting

the absence of

existence. Wishing to remain

dead for sometime― to see what you did't

want to see in the hands of god.

A tricky aura

overlaps the consciousness―

of proxy war. Someone

cries out for the earth's hug.

Wolves start howling. This

was a stainless murder.

I get nightmares. Craft

slips from the tongue. You

must decide for yourself, who

was a clean angel. Door was

locked, key in your pocket.

You cannot move in the absence of proof.

I told you, we are heading

towards the Apocalypse.