Slipping through the dawning estuary, a crumpled grasp holds but a figment of reality. Tumbling in admonition breaking at the crest of sudden doom. What stops in the night, cloaked in hidden breaths a beast lies in waiting. Emulation is the proper form of gratitude, a wash of blood upon my face the staring, so silent a cold I can not bare. A folding of potentials, a serialized thirst for gruesome madness. Just leave me be, let me have my psychotic break, leave me screaming in tortured air in the dead of night. Bleed me thinly, a hissing of spurts, the forced warmth pooling. The oozing rotten flesh of the fruits left at my table, smell so sickly sweet. I sit there alone laughing, feeling the salts dew run down over my Cheshire grin. Fingering through the pages of my corrupted memories, smiling so painfully as each page falls away, suffocating with extrinsic elation of the path I’ve followed. To what does a mind do at the coming realization that all it knows, is but the shroud of jealousy, the grips of fear, the burning of wrath. What if a mind is lead a stray by all it holds dear, such dislocation from normalcy an entropy ensnaring these eyes to forever look away. Sheltered by a sphere of delusions, trapped inside a mirror world, always seeing the one person standing in the way of revelation. But this time, in the hour of twilight, do not disown me 3 times, this is your final chance. Or I will consume you from the inside out, until your already sullen face sinks deeply into the abyss.