Entry #85 - Pixie and the Honeycomb

-open-

Oh, that's a nasty one. That's a popping drop. That's an abyss of fizzling, sizzling neurons. *Cackle* No one should dream that, not even me.

Don't remember it. Let it dissipate like smoke.

I can't let it go, can I? It clings and chokes. Life in the catacombs, blood-soaked, butchering, my hand goes up wet and comes down wetter, and everything I touch begs me to stop. Why won't I? They died but they're never dead, and the second I stop they'll take revenge. They'll do what I did to them and worse. I have to keep going or it's the furnace crinkling my skin layer by layer and into the cellar that eats. And blood that clings to me starts to plead, each individual taking the tortured face of - who? Infected eyes accusing me, convulsive lips snapping open to howl and wail.

Remember, you control the dreams. They don't control you.

Lock.

-locked-