It is when you fail and fall and growl for your inner threatened powers, and when you start to stagger and shiver and quiver the breeze of September…
It is when your voice fades and flees and weakens your soft breaths, leaving you bare to blacken thoughts as swords of madness reaping and sweeping memories then make you weeping…
It is when salted tears ignite your wounds and they start to swing on the ache tunes and scatter and shatter and flatter those who grant you hatred
It is when you die silently
It is when you cry violently
It is when you crave insanity
All in all it is when you create and state and grate and wait then negate and hate and sate your dissolved desires all the way through a stuffed-with-joy pie in a plate.