The spider’s thread snapped in my hands and I descended back down to the lake of blood. As I fell I took one last glance at the glimmering thread reaching up into the heavens. I was almost free. I almost escaped the darkness and the demons chasing me.
I thought I’d be alone, but there you are creeping between the emptiness of this lonesome house. Haunting every crack and stain and every disgusting inch of that room I’ve hidden you in. Some doors should be locked forever. Not quietly opening in the middle of the night, when I’m too tired to care and my sense of control is asleep. I want to be asleep. To enter the eternal black. To lie in emptiness instead of staring into whatever hell is standing in the doorway.
The only friends I have left are the monsters I conjure from hell.
I don’t think I’m cut out for being friends with another human being.
Disgust. I withdraw from people to keep out the filth. But it creeps and seeps. Until I am a sponge soaked in black tar. A reeking residue sticks to all that I touch. Unbathed thoughts chugging through my mental network like sewage under a dirty city. I am disgusted. In the masses. In myself. And in you.
I’m thinking about disappearing for a while again. Blow away with the wind. Vanish.
Everything is so wrong. I’m sitting alone drinking in the dark trying to not dwell. But here I am reliving the worst experience of my life.
Slow and agonizing, I am falling apart. Shaking on bruised knees, blisters tear agape. Like a molting snake my face, detaches from its fleshy tether and drops into my lap. How very unfamiliar this last glance. In wrinkles deep as ocean trenches bubbles stress and in drooping eye sacks drenches tiredness. Look and look but no sight of my dreams and ideals. Who is this? Not me I doubt. Eternal black, nocturnal dark, shades of midnight, my eyes roll out. Innards and organs land splat, I depart.
Sitting in the dark alone I listened to the clock. A rhythmic tick tock tick tock. And still nothing has changed.
kuziraimage
