An excerpt from Cube_Squared journal at Ghostbloggers:
The
temple of your gods smile upon me, showing no remorse. For I am the
light, or am I the truth; I am a fragmented being with no true form. No
form whatsoever, a coherent thought holds rationality.
Under the notion of a burning sun, like sand become glass over time. Unbreakable and not brittle, as strong as steel.
I
move my fingers and each are in different realities that I haven't been
to, but I can feel what they are like. The hair on my body are like
antennas, receiving signals. Beckoning like a Fraudian slip showing me
the way, but promising nothing at all.
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