Jan 6, 2020

On the Outskirts of Oblivion

● O ● O ● O ●

The first pear was injected with the poison of his inner scars, the second one smelled like the illusion of flawlessness. His loyal mare was already exhausted and his helmet couldn’t absorb more that a single dream per thought. Nothingness had devoured the crumbs of his memories, plunging him into a vast, bottomless sea of uncertainty. It was in the last re-configuration of the truth that he glimpsed the sign, ostensibly small and shimmering one, yet larger than his miserable life, and darker than the pupil of the universe. Although the chilly breeze of the 13th month was caressing his skin, he was basking in the warmth of a headless riddle...

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