The Island At The South
Prologue: Of History’s Grave
A story of pure antiquity, a room that will remain ever vacant till the end of infinity for every nook, every space and every shadow are perilous enough to engulf ones breath and devour it in the depths of the void. Of every stanza’s a history’s grave, of every line’s a blood’s birth. It feeds of death in history’s jocund journeys and licks its velvet lips of pure pleasure as lachrymal lacewings buzz around an old oaken tree and enjoys the wrath of nature. In this profound peril of nothing but cries, pleas and death are careful critters curious enough to fell on a pitch black hole of blood, curses and murder. Of every curiosity lies beyond every gore glimpses who’ll soon conceive bleak breaths in every lips, tongues and teeth. In evening explosions dwell of pointed prisons that’ll soon stab a pure heart of someone exhibiting, insidious ignorance in different dimensions of this perilous city. A perilous city disturbed by bloody bastards who’ll soon be considered as impaled iridescence by trines of topaz. All this unnerving danger enveloped in antiquity belongs to an island; an island with matrimonial relations with death, The Island at The South.
A story of pure antiquity, a room that will remain ever vacant till the end of infinity for every nook, every space and every shadow are perilous enough to engulf ones breath and devour it in the depths of the void. Of every stanza’s a history’s grave, of every line’s a blood’s birth. It feeds of death in history’s jocund journeys and licks its velvet lips of pure pleasure as lachrymal lacewings buzz around an old oaken tree and enjoys the wrath of nature. In this profound peril of nothing but cries, pleas and death are careful critters curious enough to fell on a pitch black hole of blood, curses and murder. Of every curiosity lies beyond every gore glimpses who’ll soon conceive bleak breaths in every lips, tongues and teeth. In evening explosions dwell of pointed prisons that’ll soon stab a pure heart of someone exhibiting, insidious ignorance in different dimensions of this perilous city. A perilous city disturbed by bloody bastards who’ll soon be considered as impaled iridescence by trines of topaz. All this unnerving danger enveloped in antiquity belongs to an island; an island with matrimonial relations with death, The Island at The South.