YES.
Peak into the veil that slightly waits.
Much smoke imbues these bands of fray.
Impressed by the weight of an unforgiving gulf.
A place without words.
A sunken vessel floating on purpose.
A liquid outside of its container.
Components of a deathly something.
Elements of an invitation.
Exactly...unspeakable.
All the rest is movement.
A certain rhythm shrouded in one stillness.
In this sand...a beating locker.
A
Beating
Locker
