Read Part 1 Here

Cover Art by Jen M Click here for more art

Visions and action, however polar opposite, they have a middle ground.

A realm of torture and despair.

The description of where reality and psychosis meet. Skeletons of the past take shape, as flesh made from nightmares.

Every inner demon pulls rabidly, at the gravity of reasoning. No two are the same, in this desert deserted by compassion. The sun shines on ice cycles wept from eyes of the innocent.

Held to an anchor that binds them to their short lives and untouched futures.

The light of this sun is fueled by candlelight; in remembrance of loved ones. loss felt by all colors or Creeds of being.

However light doesn’t blind the burden; to ease the weight off those dangling through out these killing fields.

The terrain goes by many names, one thing one thing stays the same: the lack of justice.

Blind is this ancient relic, who’s lost site, many moons ago. Before the mark of these beasts caused her to bandage those bias eyes.

Could it have made a difference?

Possibility. It’s clear that the weight of the world, measures heaviest on those already under pressure.

To a cornucopia of lost souls bloody hands are stained and will remain so in its presence or not.

It occurred to my unrested mind, there’s an absence of truth. How does one become a piece of the uneven puzzle?

Many gods and beliefs aren’t the search and rescue team. It’s the conflict between such subjects that’s created this world, along with what’s inside it.

Distorted understanding of scriptures, chisel away rationalized faith.

Possibility the reasoning behind this disturbing imagery:

A graveyard with no headstones, just upside-down crosses. As I pass through; the blood curling screams of crucifixion victims, echos through the silence. Statues of priests and presidents wail for release, they received no such luxury . Electricity currents flow through the steel, that binds each to their own fixture. In front of each one a hole is reserved. What ends up inside? The dust of the chard remains. Awaiting the substance worms with human faces.

Disgusted with what I saw, I felt my stomach contents knock at the back of my throat. Before I could process the ill feeling, my attention was brought to a monk, in the distance he was meditating.

Under what looked like a wooden door way, in between a blink I found myself in front of the door, As I reached for the handle a vortex appeared. It drew me in forcefully, then immediately I found myself in a strange place. It appeared to be the darker side of the moon. Faces were trapped inside of the ground floor, I immediately felt panicked and guilty. About what I couldn’t say.

Then just then I woke up, thinking about how odd that was still bothers me. Again I don’t think it’s supposed to make sense.

I mean no disrespect to anyone’s beliefs, I’m just describing what was going on. As I said in part one I’ll share as I go through the dreams.