delving into the subconscious, for the more part of a day, always seems more real than reality itself... but finally, after all that is written, the end of this tryst with insanity makes that sane mind, as it returns, feel like a mortal wound... to view all my foolishness.
"And I peered back into memory, alone in the cell with hardened vinyl walls... seeing souls in the stains and scratches... my water under bars on the floor... where I screamed my scream... and even the ghosts and demons shuddered. And after the scream, everything was immeasurably altered forever after."
Virgil! Why would thou lead him and not me!? And so I still wander this plane... and yet am I not a crusader?
Thus Lilith hath been the only one to still desire to place her hands on me... and her flesh feels as festering unmortality.
Jane, Jane, (my Chain)... why are you never real?"
(?:H:20:51:07|09.2.011:Y:?]©c.thomas.carter
