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This relentless electric current, ceaselessly gripping my guts, drains every ounce of my strength. I can do nothing but pour my hatred and rage into it. It doesn’t soothe me, yet it has the merit of blurring certain threads, certain boundaries, much like this vile poison taints my reality with my own twisted tales.

If I already felt like I was suffocating, what unfolds before me is far darker, grimer, sinister, far more tangible than it ever was. I’ll end up consumed by all this. I will. That’s the inevitable outcome. If it hasn’t happened already, I’ll lose my mind. Or if I’m already far down that path, as it often seems likely, then I’ll finish sliding into the abyss.

I cling uncontrollably to the smallest pebbles littering my way, seeing nonexistent signs, wandering down parallel paths where malevolent energy has left its stench, its aura. I sniff like a fucking pathetic bitch in heat at anything resembling a trace of what passed through here, hoping to inhale the memory, like a starving whore, a rotten rabid beast craving flesh and blood.

Something rots within me to the rhythm of this lack. My sanity slips away as I feel it more keenly. I bite the inside of my lips, clench my teeth until my jaw screams in pain, or bite till' my lip bleeds. The alternatives are few and utterly insufficient. A pale imitation, lacking any real thrill or jolt to the heart and soul. A throat squeezed between two diligent, earnest hands, intent on meeting this need, changes nothing. So little. No... Nothing.

My mind might take a detour to the other side before pulling me back, but even that couldn’t summon the infernal fire my soul yearns for. All the time. Melancholically. With the dramatic, fervent notes found in certain songs. Music that entwines with the fantasies unfolding when I close my eyes. When my legs part. When the vibrator on my clit keeps company to the painted fantasy. Until orgasm.

There, I find the coveted fire, painted to perfection. I dive into the abyss of its eyes. I feed on its distant mouth. I drawn in its sea, turn myself into ashes in its flames. Drink its blood tides until what the reality makes me feel finally disappear, until I see myself scream at the darkest skies and start to laugh. Then, a fleeting release surges, I come, again. But comes the ravaging hand of reality, grabbing my ankle, hurling me to the ground with a violent crash, with spite, tearing me from that in-between world where I can briefly breathe.

Once again, I suffocate. My mind fabricates, weaving new threads and stitching them to the veil of my baseless delusions. Thus, it burdens the weight of my afflictions, which I cannot even afford to exhale.

It doesn't make sense. I know. I just need to bleed it out. For the millionth time.