Sunday, 8 September 2013


It's hard to not be deafened by its inconspicuous screams. Shrill, hard, hurtful. When it touches someone, it ceases the soul. It renders, the unfortunate, inhumanly vulnerable. And sometimes, only sometimes, allows the white light to peep in. Imparting its only emotion to the one it strikes on, it never leaves. It sucks them out, feeds itself off them. Its presence starts to be felt in the gut, rising to your heart, increasing its beats, reaching out for your throat to squash it, wrangle it, and choke all your strengths and happiness down the drain. Those people with a frown on their heads, a doubt in their eyes, and a silent scream in their slightly opened mouth? Yes, them. They're the ones helplessness has been feeding off of. Nibbling at their coils, it spreads like termites in your body. You'll feel it. When immobility will dictate over you, and thinking of a way out will only burn those extra cells in your brain, you'll know it. You'll know what hit you, you'll know what's eating at you. 
The paralyzing emotion. The fear of fearlessness. The ripping away of things you're used to. The drifting gravity. 

A recent picture, this.

Craved up,


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