Bitter, Depressing. The night darkens and my emotion takes shape. Stillness sets in, alone with my thoughts and the ringing echo of days past. Lying still in my bed, thoughts flood my head with empty questions. Distracted by my mind, I put to rest and subdue the flame. Ever longing for the anticipated embrace of slumber. My eyes strain to adjust to the pitch. What’s that? A figure, standing alone? Waiting for me to exhale before his axe in me he lays. I slow my breathing as if the faint sound of respiration would alert him of my knowing. I stare into the shape, waiting to see the maddened insanity of his lurching stance. Am i awake? Is this my end? Or does my mind torture me with my darkest fears. Tempering me to the reality of my concerns. Ever striving to invoke terror into my sleep dream state. Something so horrific, as a shuffle in the dark, when you fear alone has abandoned you. Sweat, cold as a deserts dusk. Pulse, fast as an engines thrust. Blinking back tears of a wasted life. They fall around me, like the minutes I have left. As sudden as his entrance, so he leaves, laughing as he looks back to smile and say, "Till morrow, when again your fate shall make way" He has been here before, his name is fear, And has left me ponder the life that so quickly flashed before my darkened eyes. Chainsaw Murderer Sub-conscience seeping in My fear taking shape.