He knitted skies of ink, eyelids growing heavier with each stitch. Sitting in the skies amongst the stars he would work away, resisting the succumbing urge to fall into the few clouds and deep into slumber and dreams of daylight dancing in his subconscious.820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBWMUaqazPM
820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOiuw6gV3q8
Click, clack, the metal needles were smooth against his own rough fingers, as they would bound the strange fabric blanket of black.820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUgdBD3piQX
820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP4AH5TL3jL
He didn't feel anything, mindlessly working away as if he were just a machine, possibly even in need of oiling. It's gears had a thirst for apperception, not ostracism into the depths of the dark abyss.820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhQOa6bAwQE
820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡASgjkOIFml
Cold chills would find their way into his soft black sweater with encrusted with moonstones. It was a gift from the moon itself, and funnily enough, it was his birthstone, and it's precious gems fitted his aesthetic beautifully. But nevertheless, no matter how pretty he looked, he still felt nothing inside of him, like another hollowed tree deep in the forest, withered in solitary.820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDWfZJl4feq
820Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGhA3igWCT2
Watching from afar, he was only a cluster of stars, suspended in the cold, completely bereft of life.
Penana
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