This is where I store my nightmares

[nightmare-preserving-blog]

death and distructon follow you. They know who you are, taken human forms to taunt you.

[nightmare-preserving-blog]

youre watching through a screen. There's a PSA on it, it tells you not to worry and so you don't. It tells you that if they are in your house, you need to run, if they are in your house stay calm, quiet and quick, don't sit down, don't grab anything. Lucy down your street got her jaw torn off by them, dark hair and viscera scattered all around you. You stand up and you can tell that they are here. Your couch shifts under you and limbs of flesh crawl around you. The next morning you open the morning paper and it tells you that another one has been killed

[nightmare-preserving-blog]

All I can really remember was flashes of blood, gore, other forms of viscera. The head of someone I met days ago, only recognized by his dogtags, face too damaged to look at without feeling some suicidal urge deep inside. He was a new kid, sweet, young, kind face. The rats thrived. We didn't have anything to eat sometimes, but they always had food. We didn't like to think of where it would come from (they must have ate the corpses) (oh god that kid, he was so young). One day we ran out of the water they gave us. We boiled water from the puddles and prayed for it to be okay. Must not have prayed hard enough because my friend John got sick. He was weak and feverish. The next time a bomb flew near our trench he wasn't fast enough. (More food for the rats). We lost people. So many people. We cry, all out young soldiers die, and god flows through us all one last time