dementia (Steven Lane)

yes my friend, i have felt its touch, the cold creeping touch of madness. it came to me one night when you were tucked away: were you not protected when you heard: me in the darkness?
she protected me, that once, as a blanket protects a child, who is afraid of darkness. she; the darkness, if you accept her can be more comforting than your protection from her.
her fingers are icy cold, it's true. but they are oh so beautiful as they caress my spine. then reach around my chest to pull me down.
the touch and lick of madness returned and humbly felt she is a beautiful woman who will never show her face.