Well, Hell
I Am Made Of You
In the beginning, there was nothing.
Nothing save for an immutable darkness, with a mighty inertia preventing the inception of the life he so desperately craved.
He pushed and shoved at the confines surrounding him, seeking to escape, but the walls contracted and quelled his escape attempt. Gasping for air and earning only a fiery ache for his efforts, he may have groaned, or perhaps words had not yet returned to his lungs. A mindblowing agony unfurled within the man-turned-corpse, consuming and obliterating the slowly decaying remains.
Shattered mind, shattered soul, drifting in a seamless void. Awaiting Death, arms not yet open but soon, soon, those arms would open and greet Him warmly, because thoughts unraveled, splintering and fraying wildly. His sense of self rotted away as his sorrow festered. That fermented, deadly poison had turned the young man into this thing, a shade, a mere mockery of his former self.
Yet.
A pinprick of light shattered the silent darkness. And he fumbled blindly for the warmth it promised. Fingers brushed flesh, two hearts found one another and began to beat in unison, and eyes long ago closed against a hated world reopened and basked in the glory.
His savior helped him stand, helped shield him from the worst of what the world has to sling at him, and held him tight when all that could hold back the monsters hiding in his brain was human contact. In this way, he was reborn, an amalgamation of his savior and who he was before the Darkness stole him away.
"I am made of you," he reminds his savior, who is all understanding smiles and warm and gentle eyes, but no words are needed between the two, because their hearts beat as one, their body shared, and because, most importantly, his savior already knows this, already knows intimately his thought processes as they are one singular entity.
Lyle Abney is the song, and at long last he has found his singer.
Nothing save for an immutable darkness, with a mighty inertia preventing the inception of the life he so desperately craved.
He pushed and shoved at the confines surrounding him, seeking to escape, but the walls contracted and quelled his escape attempt. Gasping for air and earning only a fiery ache for his efforts, he may have groaned, or perhaps words had not yet returned to his lungs. A mindblowing agony unfurled within the man-turned-corpse, consuming and obliterating the slowly decaying remains.
Shattered mind, shattered soul, drifting in a seamless void. Awaiting Death, arms not yet open but soon, soon, those arms would open and greet Him warmly, because thoughts unraveled, splintering and fraying wildly. His sense of self rotted away as his sorrow festered. That fermented, deadly poison had turned the young man into this thing, a shade, a mere mockery of his former self.
Yet.
A pinprick of light shattered the silent darkness. And he fumbled blindly for the warmth it promised. Fingers brushed flesh, two hearts found one another and began to beat in unison, and eyes long ago closed against a hated world reopened and basked in the glory.
His savior helped him stand, helped shield him from the worst of what the world has to sling at him, and held him tight when all that could hold back the monsters hiding in his brain was human contact. In this way, he was reborn, an amalgamation of his savior and who he was before the Darkness stole him away.
"Your love has made me strong; look, I can stand now"
"I am made of you," he reminds his savior, who is all understanding smiles and warm and gentle eyes, but no words are needed between the two, because their hearts beat as one, their body shared, and because, most importantly, his savior already knows this, already knows intimately his thought processes as they are one singular entity.
Lyle Abney is the song, and at long last he has found his singer.