Old room where ghosts play in the dust corners of a council house front room. Loud silence superimposed on torn wallpaper. Madness movements, ‘Trick or treat’ redundancies play out to nothing as the Thirteenth disciple maps the timeless rendezvous.
Inaudible lonely commands are voiced as faces peer out from frozen curtains. There was such life in that room, that could not be contained by tyrant time and the betrayers of youth. I was there I know.
Abstract algorithms, evangelical lies on a chessboard. Strange leaf clothed Clown beckons ‘Come this way, we will always follow no matter what the language that kills dreams say! “laughter learnt of friends” “The place where youth and laughter go” escaping into skeletons made of dust where even the truth retreats.
Old front room, dancing bells, Rainbows and streaming eyes, Thank You!