Dis-corporeal and parasitic (in the arms of demons)

 It feels like I'm dreaming.    
Minor thoughts flitter away just before the realization of their existence had passed.    
 My body seems to move on its own as an exoskeleton for that which dwells within.    
Protected from Devine judgement, it hides within my disbelief.    
   
 Shed me not for I am the shell of inequity.    
   
 Dreaming of this now corporeal puppeteer leaves me restless.    
 I struggle to see its face but bound and blindfolded yet looming over myself I see the guise of my torment.    
Its morphing faces say to me, "Gaze not upon the mirror for the true face of evil. Find it ever changing within your soul, for turmoil is the only constant."    
 The parasitic tendrils of madness tighten as I am choked to consciousness.    
   
 Through the daylight hours I conduct the orchestra of what is, but when the night falls I am driven by the constructors of lunacy.    
Given only the disillusion of a perfect duality.    
 It is taking control of my being.    
   
 I can feel myself slipping away.    
Falling deeper into the vortex of sleep, two tiny lights is the only thing left of my humanity.    
Having been pushed into the deepest prison of my own mind I stare through my own eyes a witness.    
 To annex bloody soil the flesh must be torn.    
 And the tearing comes from the razors edge, a blade sharpened by the contemptuous entities themselves to insure maximum infliction.    
   Helpless and paralyzed within myself I can only watch as rosebuds emerge and fall like crimson rain in slow motion; only to bloom in real time as they hit the floor.  
   
 As I walk through the valley in the shadow of death I fear myself, for I am evil.