*Best read sideways on mobile devices
The demon in me wells deep down to the core.
Something so wonderful and rotten, a visual stench never forgotten.
Just a ghastly apparition that shows itself as my shadow,
seemingly detached from me.
Present only while under the distracted state of slumber.
Always a peaceful paralysis prior to my soul being forced through my feet.
Dragged by this demon through a realm that resembles reality
but belongs to unknown others.
The fear I feel is real enough to cause me pause & wonder where or what am I?
Awake or alive? Dead or dreaming?
Joyous & free or miserable & screaming?
Perhaps never to know but only to try?
Rather than fight or freeze from fright
there is only one thing to wonder when we meet.
How can I sew this shadow to the soles of my feet?
A Blooming Scribe 