&&
versus
one two he's a'comin' for you
three four better shut your door
five six grab a crucifix
seven eight gonna stay up late
nine ten won't ever sleep again .....--
In my dreams, they come for me. Flashes of black and red dancing around my body, enchanting me with their wicked tongues and the curses that roll off of them. Big toothy grins fill my brain - each and every corner of it - and five staring eyes gaze upon me while I contort under my sheets. It's not natural, these things, because they seem to maneuver through the darkness of my nightmares as if they were zipping down a slide. The blackness is their currency; they intercept it. They are part of it ... an embodiment of twilight, of death, of fear !
Each and every day, my bed becomes closer to evolving into a prison where I am held hostage in my own nightly-hell. The comforter's name has altered into an ironic game of choking me when I roll over futilely in unconcious hopes to escape what ever may be chasing me in my slumber. It's so constant and unwavering, my dreams, that even my room has become a cell, not only my bed. I live in fear that one morning I will awaken and there they will be.
Watching me. Stalking me.
Like I am their prey. No. I
am their prey.
No tranquility will ever be set upon my shoulders again. These abnormal enigmas have corrupted my soul in such a manner that it is beyond repair. I acknowledge that I should contain no hope, for all of it has be deprived anyways. I shouldn't persist and waste the remaining bundles of energy I own. I need to give up, for these two devils will be sure I do in the long run. My entire self has been coaxed out of the normal world.
I live in their territory now. It's a one-way road to death.
No one can save me.
--
Knocking erupted from my door. It was
her.
"Come in," I felt a voice, far from mine, say. The door opened gingerly and she stepped in.
"How long are you going to keep yourself locked up in here ? It's been at least three months, you have to come out at some point." This girl was wearing such sad eyes - fearful even.
"I go many places," my mouth spoke,
"in fact, I've seen more than you ever have in the past three months." I was hissing now.
"It a wonderful place, down there, you know. Always warm and no death can come to you." Because you're already dead ! I screamed in my mind.
"What are you talking about ... ?" She questioned in disbelief to what my hijacked voice stated. She couldn't comprehend what these creatures were making me say.
"You've gone mad - insane ! Please do yourself some good and come outside and take a walk with me sometime, okay ?" She turned and exited the room, shutting the door behind her.
--
It just keeps getting worse. The beasts are teasing me, taunting my last ounce of sanity to come and cavort with them. I grasp it ever so firmly in my hand, albeit, it still tends to slip every once in awhile. I am growing weak; my eyes are turning red and I can't seem to evade the creatures in my dreams anymore. I have lost momentum and turned lethargic during my nightmares, and lack the ability to protect my concious.
Gradually - but still progressing - I am dying.
The willpower of life is leaking out of a loose gasket in my brain ... one of the creatures ruptured all the pipes in there. I am not so sturdy anymore, not the same old concrete boy I used to be. However I've attached myself to the things; so I'm not sure that I mind as much as I did because I know them now. They have names - I named them, sure - but they have names.
Dejection and Hunger.
And out of this, the most important thing I have learned is:
You cannot have one with out the other.I have thought hours on end about this fact, and have a countless amount of times figured I should just kill one and the other will wither away as well. But they are dead already - just tortured ghosts tossing their mortal pain along to innocent living people.
Plus. They aren't even real. Dejection and Hunger are just my
own brain pulling tricks on me.
Suicide I believe it's called.
Involuntary suicide - a diagnosis that tests the laws of English literature.
--
I dreamt something last night. I think it is still tonight, because the dream hasn't ended quite yet. It just replays, repeating itself to desensitize me. Nothing hurts anymore because of it ... I am in debt due to it. In my dream, I have become so torpid. Dejection lurks behind me, whispering in a voice that came out of my own mouth when I was talking to my girl.
"Let the boulders
Of worry
Crash - down.
Oh let the boulders
Dirt
That kept them in suspense
Fail - now
The boulders are crashing down
The dirt has fallen
No need to wait now
Nothing's gonna get in our way
Because we all cry here
We all die here
We all lie here
So don't be scared to show yourself ~"My boulders one by one toppled over as Hunger smiled at me with red-eyes from beyond the darkness.
In my dream, I died.
--
WINNERS: &&
]
xxx
