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‘What is calling for my fare, my tithe. Does the voice come through my Soul, or from the darkness that erodes. Sticky, cold, damp and old. Rotted. Fallen from the...

‘The bones crumble and fall within the skin. Shattered and disassembled from here it can be rebuilt yet again. This life, this form, an expanded dimensional reach. Flexible, mutable, like...

‘Most of it is my making. These chains that weigh me. Even though I can unlock them, I just can’t seem to find the key.’

‘They don’t know you are behind these walls crying. They only see glimpses of you here and there. Assuming you are cold and of aires.’

‘The insidious is munched and crunched upon like a teether, pacified and classified as ‘free.’

‘Of stardust and shores you ride. From glint to mist, crackles and trembles you fare. It is all there, there in your bones and your scent.’

‘Find it the rage. Let it rumble and build. All the this and the that. There in a fester ready to break free.’

‘This patch of earth I anchor in, holding dearly to the feeling within. An ember of mostly silent magnitude.’