Have tasted my fear?
Fear that creeps from the edge of your toenails to the tip of your tongue, vivid like bitterest gall.
Fear that plays on the chords of your soul like an accordion, offering on a platter, salvation laced with damnation.
Fear that sings an ode to your life: a fleeting, tasteless, undeserving memoire.
Fear that forces you to anticipate the hours, minutes and seconds before you die.
Have you tasted a fear so dire, your heart sizzles in its presence, swelling and shrinking like a frightened gazelle.
Fear which like a starved coyote, devours your mind until nothing is left of you but stale blood and withered flesh.
Fear which digs its rabid canines into your tensioned nerves making them bark in and out of tune.
Fear which swells and festers once the three hands of that old, grandfather clock strike the unholy hour, yet impotent, lies in wait from dawn till dusk.
Fear which stakes a claim as confidante and tormentor, carting you from the botheration of society into blessed solitude.
Fear which makes cockroaches of strong men.
I ask again: have you tasted my fear?