Confronted by a towering wall
spanning miles above me..
..I..

Get a grip! says one of my men.
it shan't be long now-
attach the hooks and wires,
and climb-!

As I stumble towards the wall
something arches fourth
from my stomach
some kind of muck or mire
comes rushing forward
and my mind disappears

Awakened by the foul stench
of burning sulfur and coal
I open my eyes, groggily
and though blurry and strained
I perceive small little hooven feet
dancing about me

Yet no fear is within me
my aversions long gone
for this sight is one
I have grown accustomed to
I live among them
pray among them
I search my soul
which is littered with
legions of these horned monsters
each having various faces
are they me?
are we you?
are we sane?

I hardly care anymore
the clutter strewn about
is what remains of my
sanity
the cobwebs attest
to just how long
I've treaded hereabouts
I'm tired...
I say good Sirs, and Madams
I am so very tired.

Shall we fetch you a cup of tea, sir?
No, get me that bottle over yonder
Yes, Sir-!
Mam, the bottle appears to be empty
Empty you say-?!
I swat away the pest
and hunt for something by which
I can use to dim the light of my vision
stampedes of friends bring me many more gifts
illusions, fantasies, various pains, and love letters
each smiling with crooked menacing teeth
they appear gifts in hand, and up to evil no doubt

Sir, shan't you take your morning brew?
Madam, I have taken it, and I am indeed due for more

With cup in hand, I ask of my friends
to lay me down and help me to sleep
using their tiny hands and arms
they pull shut my eyelids,
and as I begin to lose my vision
I perceive in the distant clouds
the saddened face of someone I once knew
frowning
as the face disappears into the moisturous clouds
I faintly remember I had something to do
or maybe somewhere to be?
However for now
I think I shall enjoy various brews and cups laden with
miseries
and I shall share them with my horned and bedeviled friends
because my body, mind, and soul
has come to very much resemble them
or perhaps they me?

Cheers.

He's just an exclamation,
a fascination
of the bad turns, turn left of inspiration,
lack thereof: determination,
where the **** is the *******, in this ******* station

((add the (ary)?)
sick of acting scared or
acting scary,
attracting hooven girls of whom you have to carry,
who you've had to bury?
from the start his heart always
fractionary,