Lord show me what I fear, so I don't fear it no more.
Careful what you ask for, little shaver. As in the tale of the monkey's paw, you'll have zombies at the door.
These petty anxieties add up to a rime of sweat at my temples. And yet I will not relent, lest they should overtake me, growing into substance. Which would be a real drag.
Pixies beseeching my soul, threatening to reach up and drag me to hell! Beckoning upward, to reach the light of this daylight world!
My intellect my only armament-scant solace, that!