A Revealing

Baby, baby, baby... Here's Nostradamus - the man whom you asked about but did not know. Here's his vision of our future together wrought from the boughs of limpid branches overhanging a dusty copper bowl of fluid.

The crystalline water shimmers and reveals an ocean; a vast, incomprehensible expanse of blue nothingness dotted with floating diamonds. And as eagle eyes follow south, a boat about the size of one's fingernail bobs nonchalantly. No sails are raised or winds to call... only a lonely serpent lies curled in a corner of newly coated planks.

Then the vision plummets into a whirlpool of swirling colours. See that there baby? What's that? A spider on its web. But it looks peculiar. Something is not right about it. The water brings us closer to that thing. The spider looks too large, or perhaps the web is too small. Either way, it is queer.

The spider releases its hold and drops into a coated bowl of caramel. It moves against the thickness of the soup. Unfortunately every move drags it further and further into death. As every leg is consumed within the sticky starch, the body is entrapped ever lower until its mandibles grapple desperately for a last hope of life. A spoon then enters the caramel muck, picks up the gooey matter and places it within its mouth.

A final swirl of the fluid and it settles on your angelic face. So naive... so beautiful. Why am I seeing you in shadows? Why do I hear you speak but your mouth says nothing? You smile ever so sincerely, but I see the leer behind the tightness of your lips. Your image falters and jumps. I see you simultaneously cry and laugh and sneer and moan. All your emotions filtering through the static within the water. And then nothing. Just nothing. All black like the ebony souls of Tartarus.

And so Nostradamus nods his goodbye and walks away. You and I must now ponder and deliberate. So much is said but nothing to stake the heart.

Irrational Fear

Something courses within my spirit; Fear burrows so deep and clandestine it shadows from perception. Its companion is Irrationality. These few days has eaten me alive. But it's always like that - the fear of poison, that thing that consumes your vitality, day by day, minute by minute, of every waking moment you know there is no cure, no hope, no nothing. Fear saturates every fiber of the self; every shiver from deep within, invisible perspirations line the neck.

Irrationality courses with Fear, each hand-in-hand, crafting illusions of death and depression. Irrationality damns reason and alternates reality. It seeps within the crevices of consciousness, always whispering hollow damnation; always lining a sliver of hope with blood.

When both conjoin their lust for madness, it fuels an irrevocable paranoia. What if? What if? Could it? Would it? Irrational longings for death; fear of life. It's so simple. Just that invisible demon coursing through your veins. It's so small. Just that one fiend to ruin all.

I pray. I pray for wellness. I pray for warmth. I pray for a negation.