I can talk about the insides of these monsters again and again but something tells me exorcism won’t come. They have crept under the surface and the seal is tight. At least until the dreaming begins. Sleep is now the purchase of a nightly ticket showing the pains of the past. The mind is a harrowing hollow, its pain never staying in one spot. How low it will go in its quest for glory and just as I give in and whince, it chortles with glee.