Dreams : Angels : SuicideThis is it; you recognize this street, this house. The paint is peeling off the walls; the foundation groans with the weight of its burdens. Youve come to ease one of those burdens, havent you? How very kind.
Enter the dark, looming building,
Tiptoe across squealing floorboards.
She has to be here. She just has to be here!
Sawyer! the call rips from your throat
And slithers to the floor, writhing with pain.
You pass the burned out kitchen; the one the two of you stood in, once upon a dream. In her separate plane of reality that she let you into. That old room, with its black walls and charred furniture; its just like she dreamed it.
After all the time youve invested in her, what will you do? If youre too late now? You think youre going to find your lover. The woman of your dreams, as it were. But listen close, boy, you should accept this now. This is the reality of your situation.
You just might be walking into a tomb. You know shes