Marge And Subjectivity Defined Loss

_{Plague like bone; secure and support: ONE objective, meekly get your head down for his dirty feats because when he pulls your strings, you do not want to go the other way. Follow like glazed eyes. Listen to those who orate. When the lights go out one by one, you feel the warmth on your back, breaths — abysmal and heavy — air is ice and blood is water. When you walk, measure the distance and hear your steps, so light and ethereal; scissors sunk deep in your eyes. Mountains yowl their intentions and lamp posts nettled its conditions. One tiny step and you fall down where you find yourself actually flying. You meet a handsome man in an overcoat. His wings were tattered just as his dreams shattered. The inappropriate cadence of the dove, too ghostly to construe. A woman pushes the tables with tears in her eyes, imagining the baby that was never hers. You cannot live in this world. My secrets died out in the candle’s resplendence. Death is an opulent exterior for a C-diffluens.}

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There's maybe one more coming. Bear with me.
Also, I referred to some of my previous writings for this.
And another thing: Why do I post an image instead of text?
Because I prefer it to be on black than the grey thing dA has and I like the title font I have.