Heartbeats crushing my chest.
Sweat running like Brazilian rain falling.
A small boys terror in a hard mans body.
Fingers clentched, hands hurt held so tight.
The depth of my dismay,
caused by a pedaphilles pride.
The pit of my panic,
this gulf within my Soul.
Did Poe know?
Agony caused by chasm of his cowardice.
My vision of void of self doubts,
colourless, and dull; yet bright and vivid.
Avers.
My hallucinations of horror,
tis hell here.
Dante was wrong.
I ache.
My fantasy of fears,
this fallacies of frights,
destroying my nights.
The terror of touches;
torments; tortures; Truths.
Illusions of my wrecked imagination running wild,
hateful memories...
My loves destroyed by my romance with this Rage.
Reverie.
Racked by force.
Martyrdom not sought
just peace.
To sleep through a Night.
Feel not my pain...
Prevent anothers...