Feeling utterly breathless it was all but a burning blur suffocating and trapped all but a nightmare, it was endless drowning doom a vision of death like every other sleep — an act of death was something extremely precious to cherish a embers embrace of remnant to seek protection.

The end was to be taken seriously an means of getting close to peace with oneself ascending to the clouds, but the phantom dream was far more deep and twisted-minded; consuming a lot of your straying power.

The dooming gloom dream target of death was — you.

It felt a burdened deepy bury within your heart, feeling agony of eternal pain and everlasting suffering; trying to escape only to be dragged in a deeper pool of void.

The air was shallow, as streams of mounts came rolling down your cheek in a faint whispering cry.

"Hold me, console me."