The Rising Sunlight Edit
The night’s showering moon wraps me into a dark blanket, covering my mind and then binding me to the aura’s view glooming outside my window.
My eyes sleep with tranquility, as the empty darkness watching me in the miasma, like the black, invisible spider crawling into my open mouth.
The gentle, warping state of empty nothingness is pleasant, without any blinding sound roaring in my ears or the screech of crashing cars.
I must all commence an ending, the descending manly moon, subsiding back into the mountains, together for another night, as it utterly has no lunar shine.
As the sunlight shines above me, I feel as if its orange rays are raying onto my flesh and ripping it out with every ounce of shining and deadly luminosity.
The sunlight wakes me up painfully, ripping through my balling eyes, cowering after the hidden blanket, of how it is another flaming day, in this lightly headed world.
The birds call and my face, it is forever disturbed once again, by the impending rising of the sun, punishing me after the speed came so quickly and left speedily.
It reaches the flaring summit, the rising sunlight.