*******Companion piece to Delilah Incarnate*******

I could not really pinpoint the exact moment in time that I’d allowed her so far inside my carefully constructed system of walls that this current rift between us left me feeling like something hideous was trying to claw its way out of my chest. The fear of possible loss was very much palatable. Rolling my eyes, I laughed harshly at the melodramatic imagery. But… it actually kind of matched the burning hollow feeling that occurred each time my thoughts drifted to her. Which was too often. This out of control feeling; like my world would come to an end if she chose to cease communication with me was rather disconcerting. I almost resented her, because she clearly held the power. She seemed to be ignoring me with an effortless ease. Perhaps I was the fool for not learning how to switch off my emotions. I wanted to hate her for making me feel this way, but I could not. Instead I could only hate myself for my glaring idiocy and lack of hindsight. Warning signs left right and centre; yet I ignored them in favour of uncharted territory. My reward was a disease; eating up my brain and rendering me to a state of passably functioning. Everything had become mundane; a fucking banality. Dissatisfaction permeated everything I did and restlessness had become second nature. Oh yeah, I’d distract myself to the point of exhaustion so that my thoughts did not linger on her. But night always came along; with it dreams manifesting my fear of the inevitable. Poison had never tasted so sweet, nor come in such a deceptively attractive package. The antidote? Sever all ties before quietus occurred. Easier said than done.

©Immortal Illusion
“The streets are all violent with murderous excitement.
The hunter and the prey are dancing every day; that waltzing jiberish where intake becomes outlandish.
I’m in a bad way every passing day.

A flash of dark interest steers us into this car crash,
uniting our remains, a fiery hurray …ay ay ay.
Our hands touch unnoticed,
pressed up against melting glass.
You’re calling out my name as the air escapes.”
(I Want To Be Buried in Your Backyard by Nightmare of You)


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