Hello, my name is Mexu2d, and I’m an advent dreamer. Dreams are so surreal, you can never differentiate reality from the depths of your subconscious inside a dream. A dream is a reflection a refracted image of ones inner character. Whether developed through nurture or nature, a dream is your twisted fate, Teasing you constantly with blurred clues of your life. That is why a dream is a haze. Constantly unclear. Like the darkness trapped in my own heart. Within Haze I shall recount my darkest dreams. My deepest mysteries. My most derelict desires.
That is the truth of haze. My haze.
Every colour is concrete grey, hidden in black shades, a dull hue. There is a slight transparency like I can see through its lies. I feel an omnipotent euphoria that is beyond space, above time, watching all life- and death. The clouds shift above like a stormy bleak ocean and underneath that hollow sky. I lie- rotting away with each passing second- imagining the world.
You see, I can not really see the sky nor the land, all I see is concrete grey. Their walls, their bars, their constant cold; only fleetingly do they offer any present warmth, but fortunately- or maybe unfortunately- I am mostly forgotten. In my box of concrete grey.
I lie- rotting away with each passing second- imagining the world.
And then the unexpected comes, the door opens and I see beyond my concrete grey. More than my little box, more than my fiction of a…
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