lost in the shadows of the bipolar perspectives: part III.
Creepshow. Inside. You. Me. Heart impaled on a sizzling rusty iron spike. Roasting. Smell the searing flesh. It jerks all around. Punched. Battered. Feeling the flow of blood as it runs down. Racing. From nose to toes. Bleeding. Dying. All for your delight. Your sick desire. To satisfy your hunger. To make you tremble. Erupt. Drown in ghastly pleasure.