5 jan. 2018

we can all feel the rotting sun vomiting warmth into our faces as we shiver down there after another bloodless victory, and it feels awkward, just wrong. nothing matters in the direct heat of the sun; the sun burns all. the dutiful warrior, the serf alike: status; credibility; nothing stands out in the abhorrent pools of death...

Inga kommentarer:

Skicka en kommentar