doomsday_disco Report post Posted April 14 Dreams dreamt in a chthonic womb, a subterranean winter reverie, a blessed darkness. Ancient, nourishing roots of patchouli, mandrake, gnarled oak, and galangal thrusting through ancient soil, embracing a bed of thick moss and suffused with myrrh tears, black labdanum, and fossilized amber. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
ghoulnextdoor Report post Posted April 16 (edited) Soil and shadow, a subterranean ember, smoldering. It’s the damp earth beneath bare feet, a bat-winged tickle of rain in the air at the edge of midnight; a primordial altar deep underground, shallow breaths sooty with ancient incense smoke and the stony language of deep time, a haunting chorus of fossil imprints and biological hieroglyphs; lights out at the last library on Earth, honeyed wooden shelves gleaming in amber candlelight, its welcoming glow extinguished, one flickering flame at a time. A keyhole cartography mapping everything, everywhere, all at once: a darkness that delights in revealing a kaleidoscope of shifting realities, where time folds in on itself, each blink twisting the vista anew. But you’ve always known how to navigate the paths of your heart’s own darkness, haven’t you? After all, both the lock and the key were shaped by you. Edited April 16 by ghoulnextdoor Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
