I see them shaking, vibrating furiously. Those two figures of five. It's a sight that drains me of any happiness I possessed, almost snaps my heart in two.
A room filled with mirrors, walls that show nothing but reflections. All of them oddly shaped, in some places covered with some form of coloured fluid.
And through my eyes nothing looks quite as it should, tints of grey and black, like a camera of the past analysing the prospects of the present. And with my hands, those quivering figures of five, I can feel your flesh, your skin, your hair, your lips, your body, your warmth. Yet I do not feel a single person, one single ounce of humanity.
I pull on the disguise and set about my day and it is not removed until the rest of the world rests. Which is when I can be free, I can feed and I can feast and the demons inside can be released upon the world. The demons that posses my every waking moment.
So as I pray for a sunset, I pray for the darkness to fall, I know my wish can not yet be granted. The sun brings light to far too many people for me to extinguish it for my own needs. So I shall have to cope with it for a little longer, no matter how blinding and painful the light it produces may be.
So this deafening silence shall continue for a while longer now, until the screaming it resumes. As the hands claw at my throat and wrists, blinding and restraining me as I force the lies and the pretenses out of my mouth and I curve it into that pseudo-smile I've grown to despise, you keep loving me for who you think I am and I'll keep hating the world for what it is.
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