Trauma makes abrasions, lines and circles that exquisitely permeate and colour the lens of our eyes; the blood of our mind. Poison’d in entrapment.
The darkness of night bares more honesty than the day. There is no room for idealism or frivolty. The unsettling blanket of onyx stretches itself further and further into eternity, consuming anything and everything in its way, leaving the whole world to wake in disarray.