The dots on the wall become bugs; crawl.Your second skin implores you to buy in.
Allow the separation of sanity to fall,
Like the rain of grace, with razors instead of peace.
The vociferous outward expression;
Expulsion of your need for relief will win within.
A point of ridicule, that trivial, embarrassing decision
Will give you everything.
Yet there will always be a hunger for the increase of heart beats,
A thirst for shakiness in your breathing,
Lust to scream in all of your thinking,
Demonic desire residing on your closed eyes and in the corners of glass and light-less seeing.
Only when they chase have they preyed.