Bestill My Detonating Spirit

I phantom-crawl across vast tracts of jagged carpet, wickedly creeping towards redemption into lips of steel. The aches that won’t disappear from mad hatter garden parties haunt carolers out to sweep city lights free of the dawn effect. Somnambulating vegetation cautiously venture down lonesome streets while angry dragons roll towards bitter red eyes.

Upon awakening, an individual briefly experiences an inability to move, speak, or react

I rise above the crowds singularly, as their gazes track my flight through smog-filled sky stains. Cheering erupts for the staged performers, deadly personifications of vile substances and puerile intentions playing their prerecorded parts to the accompaniment of howling wolves. My mind mystified, the sky becomes a cage that contains me, my flight a gondola carriage roughly feathered, feeding entropy to the darkness in my pupils.

This is a transitional state between wakefulness and sleep, characterized by an inability to move muscles.

Channeling singing demons, my mouth opens to receive a sacrament of ambrosia from her darkest places, mixing heat and wind to a steamy tempest of saccharine dissertation. Fantasias slowly and painfully replace each muscle fiber of my essence with new litanies of juxtaposition.

It is often accompanied by terrifying hallucinations to which one is unable to react due to paralysis, and physical experiences (such as strong current running through the upper body).

I float weightlessly through a canopy of treetop stars, fearing to rise higher than the voices that beckon me to return. Slashing all cords, I elevate through patterned clouds, playing havoc on my shredded epidermis, shiroi koromo wa shinku ni somari, the dripping threads suturing my sanity to my madness.

These hallucinations often involve a person or supernatural creature suffocating or terrifying the individual, accompanied by a feeling of pressure on one’s chest and difficulty breathing.

I detonate, exploding like a tattered pinata engorged with lies, purging decay from my ensorcelled spirit. Energy and entropy battle over the pieces, assembling them into an iridescent mosaic, the insides of which can be viewed no longer, but only sensed.


10 thoughts on “Bestill My Detonating Spirit”

      1. You’re welcome by the way! I posted my first blog like 2 and a half days ago and I was wondering if you could give it a look over for me! It’s the intro to my story I’m going to be continuously blogging about. If you have any questions or comments be sure to let me know, all criticism is welcome. And if you like it then like the post and follow me to stay up to date on my postings! It’d be much appreciated!

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