Shockwave

A dark compilation.

I am sinking my teeth into my lip…like I want it to bleed…just to see what it tastes like. Will it be metallic and warm, seeping into my saliva and slinking down my throat? Or is it cold and black, oozing like my soul oozes around my bones, toxic like the air I breath, inhuman like my mind?

I am lost within myself, a twisting and shifting labyrinth of dark corridors and dead ends.

A monster.

This is my empire. My building scratches the clouds with sharp glass and its roots burrow and snake deep below the surface beyond site and away from mind.

But not away from mine.

I am a monopoly, rising from the dust of collapse and reviving the definitions of society and reality. I am a shockwave, rolling across dirt and devouring everything with my obscure energy.

I operate under the assumption I am heartless. An infinite black hole in its place seems more likely. Sometimes I think I was born a shadow with the gift of consciousness, and without the curse of mortality nor morality.

Sometimes I do not know what I am.

But I am everywhere.

Like a frozen phantom, my essence floats through these winding halls. My cold soul creeps around every corner, oozes across every surface like molten tar.

I am tar.

Black and toxic, seeping through the cracks of a marble façade, choking everything.

Choking myself.

My nerves are experiencing a persistent aftershock I cannot seem to control. Reverberations of my actions continuously hit me, consequences I failed to predict and cannot begin to mentally handle.

I am slipping.

Outside, I am an apparition of frosted stone.

A precise illusion.

A calculated catastrophe.

Inside, I am in shambles. The darkness is nibbling at my organs like rats in cages and I cannot stop it. I cannot even attempt to halt the consuming toxic cloud rolling across my consciousness like ash exploding from a volcano.

I am a volcano.

Explosive and disastrous and lethal. I am what happens when molten rock is frozen. Dangerously beautiful and sharp, glistening and ready to rip the skin that caresses me.

I stuff the pain into the vault in which I lock my mental ghosts, and I force myself to throw away the key. No emotions. No attachments. Just me.

Me, and those twisting dark shadows in the corner.

#writing #prose #dark #firstbook #novelist #aftershock #compilation #fiction