Binge fiend of opulent fear. Between two way mirrors sponsoring fright, pale sheets of red color paint. Tell me if you believe in the boogey man.
Does it nip the tips of your toes while you sleep? Dreams of animosity teethed at the hair strewn rind of bedlam.
Or perhaps the pair of bright bleached eyes illuming in frosty despondence, a closet of decadence with a grain swollen grimace.
Do you believe in the boogey man?
Copyright © Mitch Green | Year Posted 2013
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