Bleak visions of social interactions intertwined with anxious screams
Hidden in the deepest darkest forest high in the hills
Rotting cabin, the dwelling for the cynical recluse
Mysteries of the dark, the nights telepathy entrancing...
Majestic planes of deep contemplation embedded into his spyche
The hermit journeys on throughout the night
And the shadows creep and linger there...
Cold and desolate, in beathly silence
A billion worlds to explore wandering the wilderness
Connected to the thinkers way of life
Tunnels elapse everywhere, the portals of darkness opens
Shape-shifting spectres hover over head
Dead space, a sigh of relief from you know who...
Drifting breeze, chilling trees and a window to nefaria
Collapsing and echoing shrieks, reverberated cry
Psychedelic colours mixed with black aura return
Returning back from the journey to his hut in the trees
Entagled branches embrace this haven in the hills
Cleansed of the struggle of the past
The old man sleeps in solitude and comfort once more...
