Is the the dark filling you with fear yet?
Do you feel the tingle in your palms?
Does the wind seem out of place, are you being followed,
are your demons satisfied yet, or are they still craving more?
Does she whisper back in your dreams, when you say I love you,
but is that a whisper of the wind, does she exist?
Walls, walls, walls which once were doors,
a flat expanse of concrete stretching as far as the eye can see,
run, run from the howl the chases you through these dark alleys,
stench of human rot, corpses of dreams that once stood tall,
run away, but all roads lead back to Rome.
Dampness hanging in the air of the stinking room,
as the walls close in around you, you can’t scream
as hollow gasps claw for air, throat constricts, eyes water, bleed,
the howling is closer now, too close, are you being followed?
That man who looks at you funny, that woman who smiled,
that child who stayed near you for a second too long,
that dog who wagged his tail too hard,
that man you failed, woman you disappointed,
that bloodcurdling sight of faces past,
that door you closed, now turned into a wall,
can you hear yourself tell yourself you deserve this?
Frustrated? Scared? Crawling out of your own skin?
Wish you were dead? Spend a day in my head.

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