By Matthias Utomo “I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.
bugmeyer: “ The Gate of Sahaqiel I watched as the clouds poured forth from the mouth of the opening. The sky on the other side leaked through to flow down into the valley below, filling nothing of the infinite void that waited below it. Compared to.