My eyes…my eyes are betraying me…I have to trust my inner sense more if I want to survive…
It speaks to me; it whispers into my ear…
Where am I, and is my mind stable?
Statues of time that sit like philosophers
To live and to dream and hope and fear.
The terror and sicknesses I have seen, they break my heart…
I have seen this Asylum in my dreams so many times…
I have to find a way to subdue the voices in my head.
Is the suffering in this house is bleeding through its walls?
What is the point of a gun, if you can’t shoot in the monsters in your head?
I will shape your glum and sorrowful daily lives…
You wanted to defy metaphysics didn’t you, Matthew?
You always wanted to be a horror writer didn’t you?
Poor little Matthew…Can you hear me? Did you like my drawings?
He who sleeps, eventually must dream...
Mr. Kolth, are you really still carrying on with this charade?
What and who on God’s earth were they?
Rendezvous with the Cult of Resurrection.
But after what I’ve seen here in this house, I am not surprised at all.
I have a terrible feeling. No one here seems to be sane.
