it's coming.
a blasphemous extremist that settles in a smoke belching like matter of which spectates and keeps you off guard until it eats you slowly. until you cant move. until you cant speak. until you cant think.
it hovers above like a tiny atom that surely knows what you are.
Speaking is a sin unless it is not absurd.
for pleasure is different in its taste.
the space defines a peaceful quiet Zen like drop of water in time warp. Slowly curves my mind in what essence does it portray? like a music that is sung by Sitti, or a sweet saxophone solo by John Coltrane.
as the space rest. the matter eats. in abhors everything in its right place.
succumbs every energy that supplies it, like when Blackstar sucks powers to the protagonist.
unlike this thing it doesnt suck. it feeds on you slowly until you feel nothing but ignominy and relinquish all of that you have done for.
an act of exasperation may lead into a fatal death.
my mind is restless. im confused. i could say nothing but i can deploy something.
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