Posted by Wamuhu Mwaura on January 22, 2010 at 11:52am
I've often been told that my eyes speak volumes,and all the thoughts and emotions that wander,at times aimlessly, through the dimly lit corridorsof my spirit self,are written plainly withinfor those with the ability to translate themfrom whatever ancient languageis spoken by the soul.I fear those sensitives,those empaths who are privyto that which I, by no willing intention, telegraph.I’ve a monstrous part of me,a barely contained beast which lurks the deepest recessesof the den that is my heart,a vengeful incarnation, worshiper of malevolence,which creeps forward from its iniquitous homewhen my baser and more wrathful passions burn brightest.at day’s end, I lay upon the lonely stretch,sweat soaked, heaving, teeth clenchedagainst the banshee like screamsthat fill my chords to the brim,and my eyes,o curtain less panes of tempered glass that they are,are shut.I dare not risk that by some mischancea sensitive might look upon them.no, to peer into my eyes, in the nighttime hours,when the struggle within is at its fiercest,is to leech those potent convictionswhich have wielded their legendsupon all vitality.faith would be lost to the sensitive,for no reader of the nature of mortal mankind,could hold onto hope,could further dissuade despair,once the malignant spawn that festers insidewas revealed.
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