There is a storm.

A vile and violent storm.

I try to hide it, but it always knows where to tear through.

My reality is wrecked violently as it's fleshy skin is soaked by the colorless blood that streams from my eyes.

Like the twisted mangled bones i bare, all around me is crippled.

Crippled in a maelstrom of feelings and questions i have no leash upon, so all i do is write.

Write these records that dwell in the deep avenues of my mind, for lost in the dark void are the answers.

The answers that are whispered by the ghosts.

The voiceless masses which wears my face  and whisper in loud silence where the answers that swim dead in the crowded ocean that is my mind.

There is a storm.

A vile and violent storm.