Wandering the realm of ideas

The room is dark 

Dripping with empty horror

screaming a silent blood curdling howl

ripping apart the fabrics of sound

There is nothing here

a barren scorched world

were only words flounder

silently weaving there linguistic tongues

This land is tainted

By an existence it cannot see

Force fed into reacting

Bubbling with unseen power

This room is a command post

A deadly weapon

A storage for all the worldly knowledge

left untouched by human skin

The inner workings 

The inner thinkings

The spectral existance

of a self thinking brain