The arid oxygen washes out the poison in my lungs. Brazen people run on train tracks with out thought. I become weary on the tracks. The way the worm wind blows against the heavy steel, makes my mind shrink. Vibrations accelerate thought the wooden planks beneath me, a screech echos though the shy, i have to use all my fortitude to jerk my self up to see the terrifying sight. A radiant, bleached spot in the darkness becomes a bright sun. The suns steel teeth grow larger and has a feast apone me. The familiar pain creates a dreadful grin on my identity. And soon dark stare.
My Deadly Dream
June 17, 2011