Until the occulted
Turns her head to the center
kindly requesting surrender.
Chemicals swag on the depths of her scent
In abstract renditions. Black and White.
Bring her sight transcending mine.
Bestow upon her the eyes hell hides behind.
See that these realms we're in but not of.
Those who adhere to reason
bleed the same colors of defeat;
instead, with white knuckled apprehension.
Souls swag on the infernal seams
between fabrics of inertia.
Venus whispers, and winds move slow.
Condensing the signals each time you take control.
Hear this.
I SWAG ON THE DEEP.
Intrinsic voids consume my spiritual orientation.
My conceptual spectrum comprises 33 shades of black.
