Her hard hands were not pressed by work but rather spirit-death. Succumbing to the nefarious dream over and over. Like challenges of life downed in alcoholic shots in a bar that was known for its vice and brawls.
The ballet had three step
The Stone Wall
The Garden Within
Emergence of The Forest Obscure
Well, listen - the forest obscuring what?
She had run past a palace made of bone and thickened it with curtains made of blood. Prosperity does always rquate morality. Her husband who had served as advocate to nausea was dying inside the palace of bone. She could free him. But, she didn't. You deserve that...You deserve that for selling our son to a pedophile...I know he must've killed himself by now...you dirty bastard...you are a sick fuck...
Mother! Mother!
She looks up and sees a boy with tears of red. It is blood obscure. It is blood ignored. It is blood parched.
Mother - kill father! Kill father like you killed you own! Kill! Kill!
The forest is her. All of her. That which is obscure.
Mother! Mother!
Mother! Mother!
" Mother! Mom!" She opened her eyes and saw her boy. " Mom, you called me?"
" Yes, dear I did..." she hugged him - underneath her sofa cushion was a sharpened knife.
All she had to do was tell her boy to kill him. Then they'll know...they'll know...that fates are not bloodsealed but bonded
...by that taste of survival
blood must sacrifice itself as the failed virgin of abandonment
