Phantoms Mask

Milestones from my mind-zone umbrage’s by stupid worldly incantations. Habit of holding back tears back tears before I could make them. Not shaking music like the maw of a lion, calm patient precise in his timing dictionary in my pocket cinereous words they’re flying Raising Hell exorcist, the ghost is complying Angel of Death met too Young. It was history binding my soul, slowly internally grinding. Never meant to be murmurs, but for me, life was always a threnody choir tranquil to the point in-normal me and love never really been formal Beckons right to a quarrel spindle contractor in order what’s to say in my nature fractured untangled forever a glitch in this matrix Between benevolence and malevolence the first always can’t fake it hate a word long forsaken how many times to reverberate in an artist in the making