Waking up, the lights of the new day are projecting its entire spectrum in an orange tint sharing the same spotlight where fire aids the humanity. To the right with another to the center, a dysfunctional ritual is taking place. A man took the left disposition and is angered by the wrong sanity standard of filth. Unknown to the back of everything, a shadow drifts around. Two pieces of meaninglessness left forgotten and veiled underground. Intentions fell to the floor.
There were perfectly circular splodges of blood on the floor, unrecognized and existing as it is to exist. Nothing left to subtract, nothing ever happened; the ritual goes on in an unclear absurdity. There will be blood in the opening eyes in the day of actuality.
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