Aerolithe

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(As written in the booklet) Try and disagree with reality. This one simple night that is dissected to pieces by a silly dream. Machine stalling. Storm passing. Man walking. Determined to see which will bend - him or the world around. Convinced that reality will admit being wrong. Have faith In eyes of suspicion Have faith The world will come out and confess. In all good faith, could you have thought Of the man who would never Never seek his life. Never violate the rule. But lay down the chill of the desert Into this riverside town No value in its name. All in good faith

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 26, 2025

The day might disturb your sleep as you Carry on into the low, low mist. Past whatever was burned away. Pass entire groups of words while at it. Bring her back and close your eyes a bit tighter. You don't want to see the wrecks of men while there, although they still frequent your sleep like whatever rebellious little trespassers. Visit your dreams for what? To be swallowed by the same surrounding walls as you are - silly. But it's their eyes, the ones that flee every straight question. The ones that draw worry in small circles around you.

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

Not at all so far from losing all that good innocence and turning into one of them. Like the guy about a halfway to the ground. Still consumed by some need he cannot name or put a finger on. But there are still some strange dynamics to it. Some highs and lows to bending just too much. In a room full of dust All shapes clouded inside Room full of dust As some far reach of the sun With just a bit of it teasing, looking in. Around some corners Around, in the deep inside That will soften to a beautiful promise. You can see some ghosts of workers moving about still. Flowing, heaving to and fro. Here at the far reaches of the sun.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

My flesh opened and sewn back together. Pace, for the morning to come Just enough to keep a man breathing still Just for this short while To come and to pass Time to tear apart and time to sew it all back together. Clean of all other lives.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 26, 2025

Is there some mistake? Something out of control? No next step to take. How can it all be met? With any kind of grace, that is. Retire down In a graceful retreat Down the morning Never asking Head of to coffee Wives and deep indifference. In which it's good to come out and forget. The gone breaths. The ghosts of special lies told. To gain control and forget. All in life that's looked free or random, is now under control.

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 26, 2025

Besieged by the windows and eyes. The same ones that serve me the daybreak, over and over again. Each morning, the god-awful dog at the gate. Each morning, that petrol station and the card With a busted magnet stripe or whatever it is that you call that thing in English. The spoils of a dream gone awry. White teeth and howling. Watch close enough, if you dare. Maybe destiny reads in it's eyes. Maybe our higher deities know why it never bites, though it well could. With nothing to decode, nothing to fear. Cocooned in discipline, until sun-down. Come evening. Come the daybreak after. I want to read destiny in honest eyes. Cocooned in discipline, until sun-down and the morning after, the one closing its jaws around what is soft on the outside and crispy on the inside. Me.

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

Having a bitch of time trying to remember. A simple maneuver. No other objective but to drive them away. Outside. But a small accident there and oops. It will click and close behind you. All the twists, all the turns, all that led to here. Greet the autumn cold. Pale as some cleric of death you would imagine. Inside, the party goes on. Just as soon as the window garments have been quenched of flames. Accidents happen, in every serious operation.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025

This is to you. This is to you who never destroys. Who never repeats. Now that the shocks is gone, only sorrow lingers on. As my own to keep, or whoever it really belongs to. Oh no you cannot stone a man. But you go round that in a smooth, clever way. Tie that stone to a weapon an ocean away. Which makes it just clean and fine. My home. Here in the peace and quiet. My favourite show is on, while your missile cruising away in the depths of it's own little silence. Maybe he finds the guy who never destroys. Or repeats much of anything in the annoying way that might attract bad attention. Killing. Yeah. seems that if it's not the cornerstone of worship, then it's the foundation of a serious faith anyway. Especially when done by stealth, by the wrong heroes. Elsewhere, the earth was cold underneath her, prepared to take on what was coming. Whereas here, I was privileged to meet the official "man out of secrets". He was standing in the mirror this morning. In exactly the same way as those wrong heroes.

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

You see through me, driving me down to knees like stone. You never knew your world never knew you. I left a mark that fades on your skin. When I hear you from the other room, where I am is loss. Don't turn around. Your hair is caught. Tiny mites on scarlet blooms. Scavengers in the desert, paradisiacal night. Words collide. Pull back black polar sky. Don't turn around. See through me. You give me your deceit with both hands. It is small, warm and black. It crumbles and my hands are filled with green dust flecked with red. Your descent you shared with me, your labours and the hair caught in your jacket-clasp. Your laughing limpid eyes that flicker water, remember nothing. Here, you forgot this.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

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