Running the urge through my head
The desire to experience this fear
But still fearing the fear
The fear of losing my mind
Going insane, losing control--
Losing my mind
Staring into the mirror, I see
I see creatures crawling from my pores
Squirming to free themselves from my grasp
My skin begins to crawl and tingle
The fear of my fear is apparent
Still desiring to experience the fear--
Wanting my rush
Shadows from the darkest depths
Growing, shrinking, expanding, I see
I see the evil in all, losing the good
Vibrant flowers growing before my eyes
Adapting to the situation, I am their predator,
They are my prey--
These roles suddenly change
I begin running from the entangling stems
The dark green shadows morphing around my soul
Grabbing and reaching to distort my mind
Exclaiming, You're lost, you're lost
I fear that this fear has become reality
I am lost, drenched in a cold sweat
Drip, drip, moisture engulfed
Leave!
Climbing the endless staircase into nothingness
Everything goes white
White, garbled, static
Nothing exists....do I exist?
Shadows approaching still
Dodging and becoming distorted, I enter
Enter the blanket of snow
The eye begins watching
Following my every move
I can't escape
Zoom, zoom, mechanical noise
The pupil is focused on me
The capsizing room
Compacted like an aluminum can....
Air leaving my body
Fear, claustrophobia
The metallic taste in my mouth brings me back
Back to reality, away from the distortion
Away from my fear
The fear is gone, where's my rush?
I fear that I want this fear back
It's a sick nature to want to indulge
To indulge in the very thing you fear
The fear that will always be there
And the fear that you only want to experience in a false-reality
It won't become real reality....will it?








Tom
--
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If you were arrested for kindness, would there be enough evidence to convict you?
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Thank you VERY much for the FAVage my Friend!
--
See enough horror and experience enough pain and you become separated from your self.
- ETY
An artist must create as often as possible. To cease this task is, to the soul of an artist, as ceasing to breathe.
- ETY
--
--
There is always someone who likes ur art..
--
But our finest exhibit, is over ere. Feast your eyes, on Trevor Robinson! A shire horse, with over 37 parking tickets! All unpaid, mind. Evil hooves.
--
"Don't worry about the world coming to an end today, it's already tomorrow in Austrailia." Charles Shultz
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