The Shadows We Breed
My skin crawls, shriveling toward my anxious thoughts. My eyes oscillate in attempt to scour the darkness for hope. But there is no light, only the black breath of my falling thoughts. A cloud emerges from the tail of my tongue.
I can hear the scurrying of rats in the pitch of darkness as I begin to cower to the corner. Hungry are they, and I a meal for the ages. I curl up in the fetal, shivering like a lonesome child. Afraid, abandoned by the warmth of love.
Everything is desecrated, what is left, but to allow devastation and I to be consumed by that which lurks in this unholy of rooms? This dark cloud swarms my throat and I feel nothing but the bitter cold, like the first kiss of winter, after it has conquered the last field of crops; and I, that field.
As I quiver in this empty room, I cannot see the shadows that form from my breath. But I can hear them as if they are my own voice, vivid are they. They speak with malice, trickling with lips of loathing. Hanging like spit from the rabid jaws of canine.
They circle my ears with lawlessness. Their guts purge with anarchy, breeding eggs of black cotton upon my head. I, quivering in fear and revulsion, reach not to pluck these vile eggs from my head. I merely tremble in the presence of my shadows. I am but a groveling existence of myself in this repellent state.
I feel of nothing but filth, of grime. Uncleanly like a rodent in the trails of a forest. Running with a pit of adrenaline as I race to not be taken by the teeth a of beast. But sadly, I have allowed exhaustion to be my guide and I have rolled upon my back.
Curled, acting as if to be deceased. But no beast is foolish to take such a trick. I wreak of depraved fumes in my feeble form. I, would not present myself to any, not even myself. For my repugnant vapors draw me away. But a beast as this, delights in such aromas. Like any beast of instinct, not even the raw stench of death persuades them to abandoned a fare.
It is but a joy for such a beast to entertain its palate with the flesh of the meager.
As I cower in this frivolous corner, the offspring of my shadows birth. They hatch with a horrific howl. As if what ever leaks from them is being torn from the fabrics of life. Ripped from the umbilical with no service of the surgical.
Each screams in agony, they fly to my eyes and speak with small voices. My ears, barely capable to hear their words. But as they crowd my thoughts I begin to hear them clearly and I can't help but break. To fall in a cowards flag, I wrap myself in surrender. Picked up by the beast and taken to the tragic which is the dwellings of neglect.
Thank you for reading, is there any part of the story that really stuck out to you?
More deathly words to be read in, A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words.
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