The fear strikes before
- time wasting wildly in hope of running the clock to death,
this never works.
I arrive and its time to begin,
the blade softly slicing skin,
another mans hand holding hell,
warns me that i must sit still,
SLICE! SLICE! CHOP SOME MORE!
-the byproduct of my own existence falls,
one of many indiciators of times Passive Passage,
hits the floor.