So serene the calm waters project to eyes the subtle ripples of an underlying event, to eyes unaccustomed it would be innocently conceived such shallow ripples were of an occurrence so slight as a weak breath. But sight aligned with lesser things and darkly hazardously truths do see the motion as a thing to be beware, no joking tongue of what destructive forces lurk so deep as to reach that far and cause still the surface infraction of noted disruption.
I lay a thousand hidden thoughts of what nature a dark god would tremble at the idea of in a thousand graves beneath all the calming waters tranquil glow, each and every slimy tendril sliming its way over honest intent. To all above the surface graces politely drawn airs to wisp and whirl in pretty collated movement, the storms funding such iceberg tipped reactions when deeper emotions hath torn a world apart in cruelly laughing jest.
So see as much of a delicate flowers petals as one would readily wish to engage in merrily hued sight, be oblivious to the soul sucking tormenting processes that feed its colour of shiny black and poisonous shades of yellow. I will know of worlds fractured so delicately perfect in ever corrupted chasm running to whence the tearful screams of suffering do create choirs of angelic voices, a root to the thing that when seen in light does faintly resemble the pitched angelic tones of falsely echoed joyfulness.
Stability an illusion ever under cast behind the veil by inherit instability of what my darker nature feeds upon and flourishes freely into corners, so tortured the light feels more pain than my own lacking positivity. The gift it is to not feel, the curse it contains so cruelly mocking as to only feel anger but therein lies a crucial flaw within which another post I will explore.