Waiting for my time to come, to depart from a burning hell to another. on wings of sand i fly into the hazy skies, and down to a doomed, demolished ground..

I sit here and wait, and watch the beauty of the unknown heading in every direction, but it’s only a glimpse, ends in an instant, and gives way, back to the horror show of the mobile human corpses; all I see is errors, all I see is mis-creations, and the only perfect soul I see is the one of the corpse I hate, the one of the corpse I know, the one of corpse I own… the one of the corpse I am…

H.Q.
09:22
10 Sep. 2010