Frantic! Frantic! Climbing Walls.
Something clammy on my skin crawls.
I can't escape, it won't let go.
The horror of it is all I know.

Scraping, scraping, I want to scream.
This can't be real, must be a dream.
If I dream, please let me wake.
This crawling horror I cannot take.

Running, running, where can I hide.
Can't hide from fear, it grows inside.
Inside, outside, what can it be.
It's everywhere, it's all I see.

Rustling, slithering, a loathsome sound.
In abject terror the wall I pound.
It scrambles, it scuttles, across the floor.
I must escape, there is no door.

It grows, it grows, impending doom.
It covers me, it fills the room.
It smothers me, I can get no air.
It closes in, how I despair.

No one hears my stifled cries.
It fills my lungs, my mouth, my eyes.
Tremendous weight presses down on me.
I cannot move, I cannot flee.

Blacker than a stygian night.
My eyes are open wide in fright.
I'm trapped, I'm doomed, can't draw a breath.
Please release me into death.

It's torture, agony, living Hell.
All will to live this horror can kill.
On and on the nightmare goes.
The terror, the terror, grows and grows.

I cannot live, I cannot go on.
Although living, my mind has gone.
The horror is gone, I've gone away.
I left my body, I could not stay.

See my eyes, my vacant stare.
Although it's me, I am not there.
I'm around though, finally free.
The horror can no longer get to me.
D.L. Crockett -- 11/27/96