Of Inner Torments

From the questions written, among the thoughts of a walking riddle -- among the words written of an inner hell. Could we define the places of torment after death, if there is a place. Among the words writing in the nightmares, that would be inside the Plutonic Seas. That would be inside of the nightmares of the Styx River -- that it would be the ferryman looking back at them; looking back at them in the inner torments of frozen time. That it would be in the mind of what would be the street preachers would define of hell would be a place of gnashing teeth but is that the real definition of hell. Of this which I transcribe would be of the dream that I had the prior night of the inner torments, among the words that would be written -- of the unnamed personal demons.
    That it would be looking back at one's mortality, could be the unnamed thoughts, the unnamed fears -- that would be written would not be in the released; among the unwritten time and the inner circles drawn in dust. Ashes become ashes, and dust would turn to dust -- that when the flesh among the flesh shall be clay again. It is of inner torments that would be written among the blood and flesh, when the sounds of gunfire fill the air and when the soul departs from the body when the sky turns to black. That among the words in the illness, and the tormentings of their written sins -- the gatherings among them when even the dead may die. Gatherings inside the inner torments of the relative belief; what they would be said to be written among the unwritten horrors. Among the words that would remain when the old man sits in the incarcerations with self mutilations, and unwritten suicides; among the words written of the damnable revival -- looking at themselves from the ethereal nightmares inside of the dreams cast of the dead. From the their nightmares, they cannot look at the eyes in God's face, when they would awaken inside a web-like hell.
    Among the incarcerated fears, among the nightmares written it would be in the tormented relevations that would molest the words of the human soul with when the time of the demise comes. In the written schism, would be the dellusional words spoken among the homeless preachers -- waiting for them to come around among the winter's hell; that only would come among them when they cannot see the horror between the lines. They would see when the iced earth would stand in their thoughts -- the thoughts of when something unnamed comes into their dreams. The eyes written in the thoughts of the one known as the reaper. That they would say that they would follow their God and carry the cross; among the congregations to be crucified within the fears among them the horrors that would be a sin to speak of according to them. In the words of an aenema, that would be among them the written nightmares that would be said among the preachers who are without a place they can sleep but the nightmares within are what they keep company with them at night. It would be among the words written in the city of stone and steel or where the city of ice winds shall blow among the graves belonging to the eternal sleeping. Yet the living would never be able to see the torments of the mind gathering among them in the dreams which are a sin -- an abomination. It would be among the whispers that would be heard among the whipoorwills would be screaming when the webs of fear clothes them in the nightfall. It would be in them; among them are the written horrors that would in the revival -- from the terrors that would be among them when they are buried with the children of the sea. Among them it is written; among them would the healing be of the denial.
    Denial among the words written, among the sins they would try to avoid -- all that would be in their mind would be in the nightmares of them; would be an angel with their wings torn off of their back and where the wings were would be scabs from the blood clots. Among the written are the lies that would not be in their mind but written among their dying soul; that would be the salvations among them gathering. Would they close their eyes to dream, what would an inner hell -- an inner torment in their eyes when they throw the pearls before swine. It would be among them who would die bleeding from the smaller impalings from the drive by gunfire. In the memories of decay, growing smell of the bleeding demise would grow into their violent death; from the growing stillbirth of the second savior; among the words of the frozen nightmares would stay among them in the frozen sleep. Written of the thoughts, in the horror would be in the molesting inner torments -- from the eyes of the gathering rodents would see the nightmares birthing from the human souls. From the horror that had taken their speech, and words, it would be the inner torments that are leaving their soul in hell. It would be among the gathering fears; of all that would be in the gnashing and silent screams, that no one would hear them scream. Silence. It would be in the silence; that would be inside of the horror -- among the thoughts in the inner torments. Revelation in the tormented revival, it would be their illness that would become the salvation in denial.
I would not be able to understand all of what is written of my dreams, but what I would transcribe of all of my dreams are the inner torments of the nightmares. It would be a question from the nightmares known as the walking riddle, a walking enigma. All of what would be a dark revelation of the sorts. Of many horrors that are written; transcribed of the queer revelations which sit alone in the unsound dreams of a sound mind -- when I sometimes close my eyes to block out the inner torments from the illness within. Of in the illness within; one would write -- of the fucking words, of the inner fucking torments that make contact with one's shunned nightmare. In the words that are written inside would sit inside the questions over the questions; only leading to more questions without the anwser to the walking riddle. It would be in the dream on the other side of heaven, way the nightmare is written -- of the works are transcribed and damnable thoughts writing at the signs of the reconing. It is in the anathema among the horror impending; waiting among the coma dreams when they would pray to them for them to die, and to remove the plug keeping their flesh coffin alive. When they can embrace the dying dream; of written fears, it would be the thoughts inside of which is written would perch themselves of the unspeakable torment of the nightmare unwritten.
    Of I -- who would walk among the living, it would be the nightmare revival of the unsound dreams with the unsound thought patterns of yet a sound mind. What would be the dreams submerged and drowning in liquid excretement; in suffication and asphyxation of the tormenting words which transcibe into an inner, unspoken hell. It would be in the waiting which casts the shadow. Of all that crawl in the dreams; that would remain of inner tormentings of the nightmare which does sit inside of the unseen illness. Of the written bipolar fears, which sit watching the thoughts of a tarnished soul -- written of the horror impaling ones flesh as it begins to turn pale, as pale as the white marble of a epitaph. The fear penned itself on pages of nightmares written in journals of living human flesh; would a single nightmare transending in the thoughts of an inner torment.
    I'd be standing of the many shunned among the writing of saints and sinners -- of written legalistic and dogmatic doctrines, it would be in dreams and nightmares which write within the downward spiral transcending. The gatherings of the damned would be the written inner torment -- of no one (of I, the written sins) could hear the gnashing of teeth and silent screams. That would be the hellish light they would see before they die, within the coffin of flesh which incarcerates them in form of a comatose.