Dawn on Tremmorr

it shook to the core of the early morning fields that day stuck its claw right into the guts of it, clutching then even time. it had gotten wind of it, the severe lack of our cardinal attention, ripped its maw into the bowels of us, crushing our natural order. it was tired, but it took the first five seconds as cause for celebration, grabbed its talons into passages of sacred procession, plucking the scene straight of its slot, time ceased to pause. a terrible trembling commenced then, timeless, from below the land. the horror of it had anything with senses writhing with a-temporal terror. it gripped the clips of each of those five seconds end-on-end and without error. by focused gaze it bolstered all of its might from anything left to utter. it was, in real time then, that the earth did begin to shake. as you see it now, like Tourette Syndrome, blasting in and out of your mind, it unleashed a silent bellow that traverses all of space-time, bleedingly tapping into the light of each frame. and the dust went up to fly.

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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