Kingdom Come

Sometimes too much sunlight renders sparks upon my vision, 'til my peripheral grows tired and I retreat in mind and silence to back alley streets hosting scent of old blood, where life crept in so fast it sung violence. I'm fascinated by traces of sound between ticks in our clockwork. The things unseen, spreading cracks without notice, ever shaping our dreams. I'm looking for monsters in the places that belong to them, the patterns to glean from unwanted thread. Would you come find me in the spaces you dread? Then I am yours, and you're my King.