These shadows loom in the finite spaces of my conscious. Reaching. Grabbing. Sucking the life from my waking hours. I close my eyes and meet their gaze, only to see the nightmares, two haunts colder than death.
Inside my head the clock ticks: a constant tick, the hands moving faster and faster. My emotional response to these eyes that stare back, increases—ever yearning for my last breath.
I hold on. My claws clutch to the life breath of my passion. A grip so tight, my vision falters. I become lost in this stream of conscious with the shadows of my wake.
One, two, three seconds go by; the shadow of the night kisses my lips, the scarlet lip stick stains mark the captivity of my fleeting thoughts.