Sometimes life enthralls me. I can feel it touch the inner parts of myself. Not in a way that it touches me inside, but in a way that it turns my body inside out, free to poke and prod. The way it tears at the seams of my being, and opens my flesh. I feel it open my wounds, and lick my bones with its acid tongue. I can feel its poison pour down my spine. It pools in my vertebrae, and makes a home for itself there. 

The posion leaks back into my bloodstream from time to time. I feel it there, seeping. With every crack of my back, or jolt in my sleep. I feel the inner parts of myself being dissected and examined. 

I can't do anything to prevent it. I just have to sit back and let it happen. 

I lay down and pull my head under the covers. I close my eyes. I try to sleep. I try to escape to a place that only I can go. Even my dreams won't let me escape. The posion follows me. It leaks into my brain, my psyche. 

My dreams bring me terror. My sleep is damaged with the shaddows of angry footsteps hanging over me. It's woken with old worries and past wrongs. 

And my conciousness perils in tomrrow.