Flat affect wraps its scathing hands around my mind. Every bit of emotion shrouded by the dried wings of blind butterflies. For how much longer will you carve your hate into me? The days turn into martyrs and pull the weeds from my hair.

Failure wraps its scathing hands around my mind. The mirror has broken in front of me creating dark trees on darker skies. The clouds form and ebb before disappearing in fluorescent light. And with that; her lie is complete.

Fate wraps its scathing hands around my mind. Its future is decided in the final cutting, slicing its way through the vines. With each day the dream becomes smoother and the fine lines disappear under the waves.

Futility wraps its scathing hands around my mind. It burrows its head in my chest and tears its teeth into the flesh that hides there. She's knives waiting in the brush scratching at me with infected blood. Waste me.

Fantasy wraps its scathing hands around my mind. It's the careful flow of the silver tears that shatter as they hit lean thighs. Each day twists and turns beneath closed eye lids. It's a mutating symphony for phony priests. It is all altered consciousness.

Fear wraps its scathing hands around my mind. Each day is slowly pulling closer to the riverbed. Gravestones wait creating tragic packs of wolves outlined in snow fall. Each and every day is another dreaded breath taken from the perfect sky.

Fractures wrap their scathing hands around my mind. Creating rivulets that tear me farther away. We grip each other in close embraces of forgetful destruction pressing so close wanting only to dissolve into the other. Our bodies will be one, in our grave.

Fraternity wraps its scathing hands around my mind. The onslaught is written on my flesh in ever changing ever fading formations. It terrifies me each and every waking with shrieks and screams and terrors deep.