Outbreak of Lunacy

Statutory warning: PG-13 content ahead. Please exercise discretion.

He was staring at the distant leaf in the autumn smitten tree while the devil was rumbling deep inside his flesh, beyond the streams of blood that were making their way to and fro. Fear and terror took turns and flickered in his eyes - he was a host to the evil of the worst order.

In a moment of lapse, a seed of rage was sown in his soul and before he realised, fate was feeding it with stimulus for lunch. Soon satan screamed inside his head, mouthing most painful insults on every social connection he had, until he let out a scream like a wild screeching cry of birds of prey. Broken mirrors, scarred furniture and bleeding wrists and nails carry evidence as he helplessly watched himself sacrificed for filling the rage's appetite.

Late in the evening, when a speck of darkness touches his presence lust spreads itself inside him like fire that every inch of clothing on his body burns his skin. He rubs himself on pillows and pillars, writhing in helplessness as a need for sex engulfs his existence. Finally when lust takes over, he picks her out his dream, gives her form and shape and makes her watch as he undresses and gets drenched in a shower. He entwines his self with her and watches from afar as two naked bodies dance in delirious excitement. He feeds his lust with curves drenched in sweat, with cries of climax and a deeply animalistic violence that leaves everything as just flesh and blood. The pleasure of voyeurism feeds his delusions and suspends his belief to a state where he can't say whether she is real or otherwise, or whether it is a dream or a life of its own that he's given to live.

Self doubt creeps in insiduously as he imagines known and unknown around laughing behind his back. He rushes to solitude inside confined spaces in every alien city scared of making himself a laughing stock. Trust disappears like a feather in a wind and he's left on a stage full of masks, each one masquerading every second. Frustration forms his aura - as a voice inside that forces him to run - just run out of his seat into the dark unknown - to end his life, to complete this game of hide and seek. He believes in forces around him that clutch his life as evil vices. Pain seeps through his veins with every turn he makes as every step taken is a step missed and every posture taken leaves with him a nagging pain in muscles that have been sleeping so far. Sharp corners and subsequent steps come to life and move near and far leaving him tumbling down the stairs and tearing his skin.

He sat there dreading the moment when his alter-ego would break the walls of solitude and present itself to everyone. When this smiling, convivial, trustworthy poster that people have taken to believe would be replaced with a dark abyss of lust and rage - when all the life he's lived so far would be washed with a single outbreak of Lunacy. He watched himself tied to the tracks of life facing a dark tunnel while the trailing lights of the train of reason were disappearing from his vision leaving him in darkness - a scary, unending, terrifying murder of reason - of life.