I Didn’t Even Get A Tombstone

Nightmare on elm street. Someone or something ominous possess my dreams night and day. The suspect is a omen of evil that circles my mental physique like a burning hula hoop melting my consciousness disconnecting me from all that is good. I can’t fight it so I invite it to crawl out of the mirror and keep me company satisfing my loneliness and emptiness. It’s very presence makes me stronger and stronger. Immune to all forms of positivity. Grabbing me with its cold clutches as it digs into the back of my neck till it gets in my brain and takes over all of my humanly functions and emotions. I’m now distant and aggravated revolving in and out of two worlds. Is it heaven or hell? Then the vultures swooped down and ate at my dried up corps.

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