Bone of the Sentence.

Suppressed screams emerge from cracks in the deep earth, while death in silk robes surrounds the alcove.

Behind the mirror, a skinless face suddenly begins to sprout. Iron nails scrape the door, searching for a warm corner, drinking the breath and strength of a broken, gray heart.

Do not close your eyes if you hear the wind calling his name, for today the green reclaims the essence of this entire man.