She comes to me at night, not all of them, but often…
I find myself staring into those eyes, those lifeless eyes, that take the very life itself out of the the living, and inspire the cold and yet so cherishable embrace of death.
“Behold!” She says: “behold the accuser, for thou art to bringeth the close to the reign of travelling lamp! Fret not, as the sky cries and the earth weeps, for thou art true benevolence, thee who art destin’d to beest gaol'r of the living!”
I still don’t know what it all means, I just know I can’t get my sleep.
I get very bitter when I can’t get my sleep.
They say I’m always bitter.