Amethyst-Grave

What I want to know is how the whimsical vividity of purple, orange and green combine only to make greybrown the colour of dead fish eyes. I want to know why our faces and gazes harden like clay when exposed to summer breezes and sterile winter frost. I want to know why we want so badly the hivemind we never evolved, I want to know why there are those who deserve to die. I want to know why we don't think we deserve better than the priestly paracosm of a lofty eternity of sterility and frigidity. I want to know why we cannot, will not think outside of the haranguing frequency of breaking harp strings. I want to know why we shut ourselves i

Eat the burn, feel it crawl for its wide-eyed life and scratch at your livid gums. Feel the black swan wring her sister's neck and kiss the parched lips of her severed, chalken head. Feel the cracked mothwings of Death's Head beat your blood into hurricanes and carry your heart as red foil and helium. Feel your feet as they forsake the mind that forged them and take their chances in a show of admirable revolt. Feel as she feels, as he feels. Feel the world in your stomach like a bony fist or a slumbering changeling. Feel its maddening decadence rip apart the lining of your veins and throw your soul to the wind like ashen confetti. Feel y