The dark horizontal.
Ahead, a panting land approaches.
Flaring vibrant coastal glimmers
Mend the distant fraying seams
Of a violent waters restless bedding.
Panic indented in the floating web of wicked mental horrors.
Thought up by the crew's subconscious fears.
Come alive to haunt and drain us.
The sea is a man that's trying to kill me.
The wind is his repugnant voice
The air, his fouled breath.
A stench of salt of blood and rot.
The sky is his mouth, the stars his open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for meat.
Time freezes death inside this altering dark horizontal.
Imaginable realities constructed out of fear.
Mountains unstable and hideous.
The guardians of a contorting dimensional paragon.
A.U.M. sent us to find and retrieve the artifact.
In the house of change,
Where the king came back
Through spontaneous regeneration.
Reliving Kairos in the king's hell.
Becoming the mimics from the triplets well.
Exhuming infinity to find a hand.
A child made out of teeth, feeding on blood and sand.
The sea is a man that's trying to kill me.
The air, his fouled breath.
A stench of salt, of blood and rot.
The sky, his mouth, the stars, open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for meat.
The sea is a man that's trying to kill me
The sky is his mouth, the stars, open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for...
Time freezes death inside this altering dark horizontal
Imaginable realities constructed out of fear.
A dark horizontal
Flooding the linear land with the sand of its own.
In the parallel dunes of its hourglass,
We are buried.
Mountains unstable and hideous.
The guardians of a contorting dimensional paragon.
Raised blades of land stab skyward through the oceans skin.
Storm winds true their edge to scalp the curve of earth.
Peeling off the rind, revealing a house made of living tissue.
Yelling out its mouth for me to regenerate, in it.
In dark horizontal.
Ahead, a panting land approaches
Flaring vibrant coastal glimmers
Mend the distant fraying seams.
Of a violent waters restless bedding.
In this house the disease of dream
Course in the veins and arteries of the walls.
Imagined infections thrive.
They blister and breed under the floor.
Their many roots are breaking through.
Saplings sprout and secure their place.
Growing into trunks of flesh and boil.
The pillars of man's deepest fears.
Enclosing me in a forest of unforgiving mental genesis.
I mold this house of clay bacterium.
Where I sculpt my own organ prison.
In this house beyond our time, this house at the end of the earth.
The artifacts resting place.
A dark horizontal fear, defying the linear
Lost in this storm and exhausted of options
I crawled to the bow of the boat and leaped off it.
The figure head came alive.
And it clawed and it grabbed at me.
Desperately wailing in agony.
Failing to capture my fall. Diving through the fog.
Through the grey and green.
My hands bound together as if in prayer.
I cut through the mesh of black liquid surrounding us.
Fighting against the live current of thousands of eyes and hands.
Miles I swam. Through skin and limb.
The sea is a man that's trying to kill me.
The air, his fouled breath. A stench of salt of blood and rot.
The sky, his mouth, the stars, his open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw grinding for meat.
The sea is a man that's trying to kill me.
The sky is his mouth, the stars, open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for...
Time freezes death inside this altering dark horizontal
Imaginable realities constructed out of fear.
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We still talk about music, but today we do it from a different point of view, taking a cue from a book, a photographic book called Ten Cities.
I was about 6 years old when I listened for the first time "Blowing in the wind" hummed by my mom while she was accompanying me to school, the version was the Italian one, but I liked the rhythm right away.