NOWHERE IS FEAR more impregnable than in the subconscious scape , nowhere is fear more oneiric and omnipotent . the sons and daughters of man at the mercy of the agonizing slowness of a dream . it clutches hungrily for their feet like moving muds . see the monsters emerge black and bog - bodied , if not perversely vivid ! their laughter sickly pops and burbles . come the cerebral harvest , come the vorant eyes / mouths , bloodshed would take to wake . see their silhouettes cast ‘gainst the boiler chambers . it reeks of hot briquettes , carbon and carrion ; thousands of dreams to softly smoulder . the sparse air and insufferable heat elude them . one nightmare flaunts blades for fingers , the other brandishes blades for teeth .
akin they are hunters , deceivers , eaters of believers . It doesn’t trust him . It trusts he will be wiser than disleal to their unspoken contract , lest he stare without sanity upon an eternity to dwarf every nethermost realm he has known . where they all float ! as they stalk nearer , roused by the livid pulses of prey , the glamour exchanges a fleeting glance with the demon as It iterates , ❝ one sees . one dies . ❞ and finis befalls youth . the red liquid of life trickles and trails capillary paths from the wounds , it sullies everything where it wept . it oozes warm , viscous , silent where screams , too , smouldered out .
there’s a way to win the game -------- never let it end. eternity in the plant’s underground, torn by smoke and boiling steam. why, mortality is what failed him the first time around, meeting doom in the way of gasoline and flames. MEN FALL / MEN WITHER TO BONE. gone to dust. while murderer’s corpse may rot below junkyard grounds, food for the worms, he lives beyond where the townspeople can catch him, tossing a match. ( again and again ! ‘till he dies for good. can he ? will he ? ) for now, the menu was plentiful, growing larger by dusk. in here, he’s judge, jury, and executioner. the OTHER may do as it pleases, in the waking world and everywhere else in between - for the demon’s own sake, he’ll allow it. down to the boiler room, life meets death. he dissipates. reach in, behind and form where victim hides between sprawling pipes / waves of fire. the DEAD END to appear and frighten. how child’s mind speaks to him, cloaked with mumbled prayers through quivering lips. JUST A DREAM. just a dream . . . the one who screams the loudest, cries the hardest ------- that’s your sacred messenger. ❛ tag. ❜ slimy palm falls to boy’s shoulder, skeletal digits curling through fabric of sweat - stained shirt. the other ( bladed ) clasps ‘round forearm, and with barked cackle, the boy is thrust forward, scraped hands and sore knees to grated floor. ❛ you’re it ! ❜ work boot knocks against spine, kicking the dog while its down. surely, the cries would urge it to follow. lazily, head will roll to boiler’s furnace, then to prey. bladed hand darts down to grab at the back of night shirt, forcing struggling child a ways up, billowing fires close to snap at skin.
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