Shane W.- Age: 20

March 31, 2009

The Enigma

This leech is festering on my body. It crawls beneath my skin. The delicacy of the residue speaks to me in riddles. Ribbons of blood eat me from the inside out. I'm a rotting corpse on the outside. The outsides are my insides. Bewildered fatigue beholds no bounds before the elusive eyes of the Geist. It feels no pain; it feels no rape. Vagueness never ending. But it says to me in its cryptic code "oh that hurts so good," while the apple of despair looms overhead. Minions foresee the end of this world. We are but patrons in the eyes of our own. It resents us. It resents me... us. Harking back to the heretics long ago: Their fate... Now I take this salt-encrusted, rustic twine and begin to sew. I sew like no other, while it watches. Slithering, serpentine figures lie within my body. Tentacles suck my breath away as the gaseous vapors exit my mouth. The dourness douses me with slime. I'm covered in this shit- Shit who unceremoniously takes away my pain for its own.