Weak tense weaker tensions from the falling a falling of selfless mindless shadows deeply breaking the broken tones of sound going in to the deeper the new the next to newer new of the deeper we go falling into ourselves like a well not so well a pond of endless abyss the void goes into the void of voids and then Void Four inside that further deepening inside the mind where we are of the dream and the dreams dream exposed lost into the thin line of dark light of the night that never ends horror screaming at the echoing screams and it is like it was real then there is an alternate view to the dream.., We are forced to deatb and lost broken and beaten more then other dream dreams into the new dreams ripping the mind apart like over cooked meat sent to the waste bin and that is were we are going to find us going mad falling and falls into ourselves again and again over and over more into the void .,, Void Four. As I am catching myself I scream and the mirrors scream back and then everywhere they shatter everything broken abyss of soundless shadows more so and is shattered to annihilate itself in explosions and still explodes and shatters to pieces the pieces shatter then into nothings and then further., I am falling into the dreams and begin to grasp out of lightlessness motionless coils of life leave me raw like the frozen that controls my mind .,In this it explodes like nothing opening into void number four:: Number four the only thing that makes sounds are the beats of the death drums into the night deep into the night and into the deepening dreams of . scatters the broken dreams between the bent frames of time and energy meter less matters that take the light from all things ., engulfed by the dream., dreamed of the dream as it happened that night in the mornings ., morn ., mornings morn the morning of morning .,, wrong it went all wrong and then exploded into my blank mask less face where there was nothing in the way of being or non-being as neither and both leaving only insanity such a small price when the real price is the taking of time's limits oh and how time takes its time to bring the morn of morning. Splits open mind and mindlessness into the extremes of all that is all., and one knows nothing all too well but is not well at all. weak weaker they come into the dream and kill me over and over again I still do not know how to die,,. And yet making my mind up it rips breaking my thoughts and ideas into disturbed deadened like war and warriors making death massive memorizations Hexed into the night awe in vexed morns of morning morns its death over and over neverends bends into itself then busts itself like the demons of nihilistical void four we account for the lost souls and the souless saviour making him the cast in the spell of nights in night with out dreams dreamed by our beasts in the sky of righteousness that is not right. As with the broken to pieces there while then we put the spell a vexing hex to cast on Christ cast into the night of witches and her crystal that has trapped the Christ in forever like the broken lines of power so easily shattered in true effects of the sinister morning of morns we wait the ever into and indevor to few forever into => forevers so many that they too are forever then the ice crystals of light shielded by shadows of evil falling everfall into void four. By now the void knows no home no safety, no. It knows the screams of The Christ as like the devils children that eat at his bones and scream for more. Fatal the wound - does not rise on the third.