you won’t see him cumming up behind you. he sneaks and peeks into your window stealing the remnants of your dreams. all you will be left with is the nightmare from last night.
from beneath your bed the boogeyman waits his turn to pounce until you are all cleaned and tucked in tight for the night. did you undress for him???// i bet you didn’t know his favorite color is pink. how about your favorite scary movie??/ when the lights are out we are all alone. at least no one can hear you scream in the dark. the vacant mirror’s reflection is all the proof you’ll need; you brought this upon yourself, at least that’s what you’re told.
there are people in this society who make a living off this kind of mockery. we call them professionals. people who actively seek out the weak and afraid to bleed them dry. callously sucking the energy out of their prey their disregard for life bleeds bright. the shadows belong to the absent.
mindfulness would inquire a thirst quenched return to it’s river’s mouth. a good maker knows never to feed from his young, the initial sacrifice of their life being eternities satisfaction. [beginings are always hardest to quit.] the dead would much rather you use them for feed in the perils of the unknown still, a maker must impart his knowledge.
God is angry.
do as thou wilt..
here, we live, until we die…
aint shit pretty.