greater collapsation sessions await in the empty beyond, where feelings that resist naming prey on susceptible minds, and where gray shapes enshrouded in an impenetrable mist torment the imagination.
a place that dares the dreaming mind to drink it in in all its esoteric glory, but no one could ever come back from back there.
romance awaits in the empty beyond, where outlines of muddled hopes and prayers for a better tomorrow taunt susceptible souls, begging to be chased into the dark, unexplored depths of diseased forests, the branches picking at our skin, torn fabric stuck in dense shrubbery.
still, the shadowy dreams scream out, demanding to be pursued.

i have been bit, i have been infected. the maggots are inside me, they feed off living tissue and reproduce uncontrollably. until i'm reduced to a bag of writhing larvae, a black plastic bag containing an amorphous compound of flesh and disease. i am seeing the black plastic bag from the outside, from the perspective of a consciousness devoid of physical form. because that's just how it has to be this time around. it had to end like this.

on a daily basis i blind myself to this awful sight, but one day i won't be able to carry on living like this.
one day, it'll all come crashing down on me. you cannot run from these nameless horrors forever.