My life is made up of silent pyramids.
So many interlocking objects and shapes.
Where only intergalactic superpowers listen.
Driving me forwards through chaotic life.
In the darkness I can see lights and orbs.
Shifting around from place to place.
They glide past my feeble existence.
As if they are reassuring me with warmth.
Strange characters whispering gently.
Supernatural words from far off distances.
Yet no-one has ever recorded these noises.
When I walk past human haunts.
The cold night air is filled with mist.
A stiffling supernatural nausea.
Gathering from deep beneath the earth.
Where graveyards stand solemnly on pause.
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