Robin Bowmer

Rookie (4/5/09 / Leeds England)

The Borehole

Black abyss is down there isn’t it?
A secret hole for the stained souls of the men of the enigma.
Trickling down the spine of time, let the gates open let the rivers run red for the coming of time as hole deepens with screaming of life as it pulled down in to the hole.
It assimilates broth of life, let only the silver sun shine escape with it’s serfs.

Let us vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous in vigil valour and vanity. Shoot them I say! Shoot them! Purge the Golden hall of it’s g

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