Penumbra

Drowning in those waves of smoke
Which summits stand out like living roots
I feel them seizing me, wrapping me up, devouring me.
Here. They come, on and on,
like plants born of satanic seeds
Cultivated in the Pandemonium,
They're going through the ground as if it did not exist,
Sprayed with innocent blood,
They proliferate in the void of subconscious.
As some of us are still resisting
Your strategy changes and liquefying,
You blend in with the red fluid,
Destroying our senses, creating new ones, unknown and