These eyes seemed to be working against me. I forced them straight in order to stay focused but there were lashes attached to the back inside my skull and the worm decaying my insides was pulling them back of their surface, so I could see the grim splashed upon his cheeks. I fought it back, who wouldn’t? But even as strong as I perceived myself to be I would not win against the beast of my bones. He roared and slashed me, taking complete control of his skeletal structure den, blocking my nerves, sending me into complete shock. My hands trembled as he gave back my vision. It was a zombie horror film, it’s a shame that nobody tells you that it can and will happen.


I gave myself up to this beast, this power, whatever. I had felt it before, scratching beneath my skin, writhing away at my insight, or at least that is what I thought. But he thrived upon my generosity and instead of leading him into the walkway of defeat I forced the strength down his throat, for the one day to attack.


We are strange creatures, nevertheless horrid ones and I never held that opinion true until this instant. The Puritans preached this, by damning all souls to hell, but whoever thought to trust a bunch of crazy men in black robes? I loathed myself and every being out there. Pitied that they must live with the monster inside them, pitied myself.


The leech fed upon my liver, chewing upon the fatty tissues, devouring this tasteful treat like a child would gnash into a chocolate bar. His eyes grew wide and became the cartoon that haunted me throughout my childhood. One that followed me night by night as it attached to my shadow, vicariously fulfilling its desires with the blood of my airless self. It choked upon the bile and out plunged my destroyed being, discomforting to the eye for all to gawk at as I blurted out obscenities.

How could I be so selfless? All these years working hard to improve the souls of others. That was its plan you see, distracting me. What an intelligent force of nature? Rather then analyze myself and understand my actions I devoted my time to the world. Some spend their worthless lives improving the outside, but I was deceived. I believed that by assisting the world, I’d achieve the best for myself. He proved me wrong. Gave all that I had, too bad that all I was made up of was s***. The garden hose I used to replenish the lives of the less fortunate ran out of water, and I was left with manure instead.

And that’s how we all crumble. Our lives filled with attempted greatness, but no matter how far or splendid one resides we reduce ourselves to this emphatic being with simplistic ideals and no right direction. Glorious throughout but corrupt in the end. No wonder the fates plan our demise with rusty scissors. We spit, fray, and die.