chiristrophic-blog

pornjunkyard

When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid on the spirit, aching for the light

and when embracing the horizon it pours on us a black day which is sadder than any night

When the earth is turned into a dripping dungeon in which hope like a bat flutters blindly

and bruises its timid wing and tender head against the walls and rotted ceilings

When the rain stretching down its long streaks of water imitates the bars of an enormous prison

and a silent throng of loathsome spiders come and weave their webs inside our brains

and suddenly the bells swing angrily, and hurl their hideous uproar into the sky like a band of wandering spirits, who wail relentlessly

and long hearses without drums or music move in a slow procession through my soul

and defeated hope bursts into tears

and the fierce tyrant, Anguish, sets his black banner on my bowed head

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.