the past

scribarevoxtotale

My head's under fhe spell.
Cries in the dark,
they reach me.
I'm without visions,
just a victim.
Where the clock stops,
lines fade.
Where no one compromises,
influences multiply,
like a sickness.
In the earth the echoes
sound through the darkness.
Without obstacles,
they float in the air.
Risen up through the veins,
reaching my head.
I'm being guarded by the haunted.
Far away where the sun never sleeps,
the sound fades in the sand.