November 17, 2003
Glowing eyes of the malcontent look out at me as searing images run through my mind. The knife is sharpened and my friends turn into darkness as I flee on legs that seem weighted down. The back alley of my childhood changes from the sunlit treed freedom spot to the weighted down darkness of reoccurring fear and scrambling screams amidst new character betrayal. The dreamscape of my mind becomes a horror chamber of mangled thoughts throughout my day, lost and dreary images darting in and out catching flies I cannot see until I close my eyes on my constructed self.