fearful of plenty

The darkness is always there. Those black eyes that stare at you so hard that you are in disbelief and, consider yourself in a total dis-allusion. The half-witted, self-sized criticism that comes at you so hard, as to, change the shape of your feet. Coma-dosed but, still there. Hanging by on the whim that, anything happens. You take it in strides but, can't tell the difference of any thing that comes your way. The sleepy-like and slightly numb felling that breaks at you with so much force, that you're glad that it was. And then what is that. Well, I guess it's time to stop now. The trance I was put in is slightly starting to wear down. The numbness is back. The numbness of pain. A place that I have been to, again, and again.

Blood falls to the ground as I slowly wait. Waiting, for reaction from this beast, known as fate. And if I continue to devour, until, forever more. Then lowly fucking beasts are destroyed, in my presence.