Dance in dark
Delight in days
Revel in reality slipping slowly to the gray.
Inky black comfort dripping into haze.

Distraught in denile
Damaged in disdain
Rememberd reason trembeling in shadows to the grave.
Nervous the edge of sanity sinking slowly below the brave.

Cringe in quiet
Crumble in cacophony
Bask in benign indifference to the coming of the fray.
Shape the broken mold into which is squezed the clay.

Form in function
Friction in fruition
Extrapolate from nothing what is real of what is fake.
Drive doom through the heart wooden to the stake.

Damaged and distroyed, disturbed and distrought, this is the friction of the fraught.