Rubber Plans

I feel it coming now, as the dust settles. I feel the Darkness gather steam on the horizon, it rumbles and hisses as it builds, as it prepares for its descent. I find myself lost at sea, an insignificant speck on a tragic little dinghy, bopping along the edge of the swell with a brave face, I am zoomed out to infinity. Everything quiet, my body lies motionless on this bed and refuses to move for fear of waking the monsters that have yet to stir, but it is to no avail. They smell the opportunity a thousand miles away, they see the crack in your armor, the years you've spent building this brick house mean nothing now that it turns out to be made of straw. You surrounded yourself with fire because you thought it would light your sparkl and now you see it burn your bones to the ground.

I sat in a small room without windows today, a soundproofed refuge in midtown madness, I padded it with beauty and thought I'd land in relief, but I felt nothing. The Darkness does not care for your homespun remedies, it laughs at your pathetic attempts to keep it at bay. It tears through your own speeches and finds the poison you've hidden within. When the hurricane comes, you will drown.

You will drown.

The only way out
is through.