Fingertips brush against the rough patches of pain below. Caressing the aged chasms between us. The light is not a friendly camouflage. Yet it is an inconspicuous hand. My fragmented bones tremble in the indecent crevices of emotional turmoil. I am invisible to the near eye, but I am visible to the fading future, I am a embodiment of decaying faith. I am descending off beneath the inconsequential gavel. My world was besieged upon false unimaginably shattered hopes. Forbidden insights are my only vice. They are my only justification. Shadows, I live in no more. Shadows, I believe are what I live for.
