Laquyn

The Nightmare Through crimson stained glass the sun light bathes bloody red upon the ivory keys, an open window, carrying the weighted sorrows of twisted fingers; Rachmaninoff’s 2nd piano concerto faintly swims within a turbulent wind. There are devils here listening as madness mimics expression and violently churns into a force of utter despair, the voice of the c minor moving forward with the power of a raging storm. The wind gusts ferociously making the lily white curtains, now washed in blood, sway excitedly to the pulsing rhythm. Faster and stronger the winds now become, shaking the windows and pounding at the walls, the musician