elevatorshafts
Mute man couldn't speak. He remakes this matter. Reattachment begun. Reestablished his nature. Marking it down with no sound. Erased his mind, and then rewinds. For the last of his words will not be heard. The remarks from society were stern and absurd. He had not cared, because to him, all words were absurd. So he once in a past life had heard.
Pinned down. I'm looking like a million bucks and I have zero. Fanciful for glory but I'm not even getting laid. But this composition of attire makes all the difference.
Lit among space. Shroud, cold, ice rendered space. A thin line of dust and gas. To what we see, star light. This is evil at it's prime. Bright devil's in our sky.