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Boiling Things, Soiled Dreams by Ray Printer Friendly

It’s probably just an over-active imagination, but the monsters are creeping tonight. I can’t turn around without the shadows biting at me, and I hear the whispers from my mind, but they’re screaming.

Try to look at the bright side of things when your brain is collapsing in on itself, when madness is a forgotten dream because you’ve gone so far past. I dare you.

I’ll look you in the eye when you feel like having your soul scrambled and your essence violated, but until then, just leave me alone about it. I am not responsible for my actions when you put your finger in my face, and I’ll never tell you why. You wouldn’t listen anyways; you’ll be running away, screaming.

My skin wrinkles and rips, my veins crawl, and everything that should be right is not.

Falling deep inside, finding too many hidden boxes that are better left undiscovered, and they’re all filled with heartbreaks or headaches. You can’t rip apart a mirror, but you sure can break the hell out of it.

Choking on memories, racecars crashing in my skull and innocent bystanders gunned down in the crowd.

This is your bedtime story, boys and girls…sweet dreams.


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