The blind will, toss and turn, this insomnia just won’t let go.
I want to scream, but who would I scream to and what would I say?
Locked inside a blackened tomb like a night-flier
I drag the metal chains and they clang on each step
Echoing in my hearing holes at each side of my cranium encasement like a giant gong.
It does give moments of creativity, that, I can live with.
But, when the thought-well runs dry the only things left are the self-critical passages and each stride I take brings me to yet another corner, which opens, yet another long hallway of disparity.
I swear, this grows and builds itself and all for my own torture.
You’ll never get out, there’s no escape, you’ll die here with the rest of us.
You’ll sink into the walls of eternal hell; your screams will be music to the devil’s ears.
Thunder claps and you shudder
Water floods each gutter
Don’t you see the charcoal hue of his eyes
Inside the walls, you’ll be entombed
Your corpse rots where he keeps you
My pretty little wallflower
Scream for me now!
By Crimson Quintessence 2018.
Original written work by Gillian Gibson aka Crimson Quintessence 2018.
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