I let out a ‘yawp,’ voice thick with drunken hallucinations and eyes glazed with ruby insanity. I dance the feral flamenco of ringing lunacy that takes place at the end of every world, every world that is sunk in cold defeat and licorice evil, that is. When did I become a restless beast, to rearrange the corpses of the kings and noblemen that ruled the world in the time before the lord of the heavens stopped caring? ‘O well,’ says the blind horseman, ‘look into the mirror and see your hideous form being bombarded by the black and white static weight of truth’s unreality. Maybe there is a dribble of something to love that is running down the gash that is your gruesome mouth.’ I turn away in a fit of rhythmic convulsions, and images of chaos in its pure-fire form ripple through my already unsettled disposition burning my core to its reddened marrow. Upsetting screams flit across my mind, and I scream frantically in the direction of their voices as dying knights spear the newborn clouds and dark blood drips slowly from the cotton forms. I’m battling with a wild sea snake now that has always lived beneath my bedroom window sill in the hedge, biding his time until the time until the time when I would meet my match in the form of dark matter. Fire dances on his serpentine lips and scorches what is left of good what is left what is left what is left of innocence. What is left of innocence?

Who will release me from the wild thing that is my throttled self? Who will break the bonds of immortal existence and miserable being that cut into my blackened shoulders and bestow death with a kiss upon my knotted forehead. I dream of an end. I dream of an end I dream of an end I dream of an end I dream of an

end.