Malignant Innards

Black seeds were like flecks of pepper amongst the salt of the earth.  They squirmed as legs sprouted forth from their diamond abdomens.  Jetting from their hindquarters were curved pleated tails that ended with a stinger and thin fibers that curled as a dry breeze brushed over them.  Elongated appendages emerged near split heads and slowly became pincers snapping wildly.

Nightmare devours reality in one mighty swallow

Perhaps in the depths of despair shame wallows

But not before race deters reason

And blood runs from season to season

The little abominations raced, blended together to become one massive creature that reached for the sun and roared.  It swung its tail and sliced through the air with a crack.  In its wake was a throbbing wound.  From its seething divides squirmed severed heads.  They fell in a pile of crimson waste.  They too little by little sewed together to resemble a nightmare.

        Fabulous thing isn’t it; the invention of the written word. Since its creation I found myself drawn into the capabilities and possibilities of mankind. Now here I sit with quill in hand as the swell of light dims.  Under the might of thought I am able to sustain its glow and work as I never worked before.  This is a fun activity, is it not?  I never imagined a piece of parchment or a silly thing as a quill to be so exhilarating.  Still I must rest here as other things call my attention.

And still I wonder who or what am I?  Where did I come from?  Was I always here?  Are the rumors true?  Is Chaos my creator; Father and Mother?  Am I a savage configuration? From Chaos all forms of life sprout.  Therefore it might very well be true.

Beyond the shadows of this abyss I know lingers impossible torture. Hands that hurt and persons who worship money have only one agenda that they follow. It is never about life anymore.  The world created by a mind is a world easily influenced by emotion. Without emotion there is no life and without life there cannot be death. Perhaps that is the very reason nature entrusts decay upon her creatures, but then again I am not sure if death is a curse or a gift.

There is no one who can rewrite fate. Even the one in charge cannot deem changes without much consideration of plan and action. His voice won't let me be. Like a spider he sits in the corner and watches every action, every pause and breath I take. Should I question his behavior I am given a poor excuse or a flat out lie.

Staring into darkness I hold my head high. I listen to scratching and growling as I move steadily up pointed rocks. Their sharpness digs deep in my feet, tear open my flesh and yet I continue without hesitation. The pain is nothing more than a irritation. I need the key. I need the elixir. It is the only thing that can save her.  I grasp vines that litter glittering minerals. Should one break way I will fall to my death. But I cannot look back now. Feeling the wind through my hair I bite my cheek and grunt as I pull my weight over another impossible angle. I hold onto the ledge panting and stare at the valley below. Its sloped depths and lava peaks churn angrily.

And that is when I wake to the true nightmare in this hell.

Far and away dreams are flung. In the daylight it seems a lot less frightening, but once night's curtain falls I am again living the nightmare again. Behind me sits judgment. His dark eyes and pursed lips are stamped in my mind. I wonder why it is he watches me.

The world is coming down. The people within are nails hammering under my skin. There is no way out of this mess. I stumble through silhouettes and find only pockets of light where I can linger before having to shuffle on. Why has the darkness consumed so much?  Wishes cannot provide relief these days. As the road twists and wraps around impossible angles I succumb to many things. There aren't enough hours in the day anymore. It has all become a feat even a saint can't pull off. These machines forged by human hands are about ignorance as much as they are about illusion. There is no reason. I doubt there ever was one.

I drink the pain of a thousand deaths and still I am bestows utter neglect as my fingers curl into my palms and judging eyes devour every detail of every mistake. Deep in the heart of darkness no one can hear you scream. You are alone. The only friend you have is the insanity poisoning your mind. People rarely discover the pain burrowing just beneath the surface. It can leave everlasting scars.