• hmg101p 10w

    Under the alias of distance, striking subjection renders hearts lost. Temperamental and sly, the hands of the clock laugh at presumptions. And into the vacant, a stare eye gazes. And into the void, a broken voice shifts blame. Sleep away the insomnia, implore the given factors of how to; why for. In grievances under penalty, a perverse amount of sighs. Mockeries fall around; and deaf tragedies eat the ghosts. Under the guise of long ago, blunt prediction surfaces again. With carelessness and satisfaction, the sky impales soulless accusations...

    -HMG