Aimlessly looking at the pixalated screen as tens of thousands were at the same time, locking, splintering my attention between social medias, draining my time to the unwarranted, undermining the attempts of negating such actions. I pulled myself closer to the screen, realising that I was indulging too much, but I could not stop myself, it literally sucked me into this world of fantasies, dopamine, multitude of feckless information, slowly seeping into my brain, casting an insidious death spell to it.

As I wanted to get out of my seat, I was glued, by the immeasurable, invisible force of the screen. I rubbed my eyes, to refocus on the pixalated screen, deluged with information. Scrolling down the feed even further, I realised I was getting closer to meet the end of a bottomless pit, an infinite abyss. Calling the shots, I asked my heart what was left inside my heart, it replied none.

Jamming my breath for a second, the immeasurable force materialised in the very front of my eyes, staring at me with its vicious stance of a hand reaching out for something, a strong reach, veins popping out of the blinding subcutaneous layer of peeled white. The vibrance of the white hand shook my heart, but I had no response as I had no answer for what I had for life anymore, gradually succumbing to the blinding light, darkness, that was approaching me, quick.

It switched its stance into a fierce dragon’s claw, two stern fingers on top, three awkwardly distorted fingers below, the palm was glowing in white light, swiftly, sunk itself into my very eyes, the remnant of the fingers pried open my jaw, ripping my skin apart, leaving me with the mishap with an artist’s touch.

Feeling the bones of my skull cracking apart, the squirting of my punctured eyeballs, the laceration of my cheeks, ripping a smile as wide as Joker’s, the difference was I did not have the last laugh. I still could not feel myself, I just let everything happened, my grit did not stand up to even put up a fight with it. Figuring out it was not just going to let me bleed to my death was too late, its cadaverous, macilent fingers drove deeper into my insides, stirring me up, literally, feeling my guts, my innards mixing up together into a pastiche, a symphony of pure gore, horror, physical pain. Flinging me into the end of the torture of the flesh, it pulled everything out from me. Letting my brains, alimentary canal, oesophagus, stomach, spilling all over me, sealing my fate with a coup de grace, sending my head into an inverse position, twisting the banality of my life into an end.

Craving for more? Down below:
What Does A ‘Follow’ Mean?
Music Box Escape
Understanding, Forsaking.
Not Now. Candour.
Bad
Reflection of Nothingness
Usual Spot
It’s November Already? (Goals)

Image courtesy of : http://fringe.wikia.com/wiki/The_No-Brainer

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