You have been warned.
Corners let flow the shapes of daily thoughts. Junctions through which streams flow, corners do not hide. Yet, hidden away in the infinitely small recesses of corners lies the dark. It bides its time, festering, never entangled in rational streams of consciousness. It lurks, anticipating the moment to spill its disease.
Soon it begins to feed, an emotion here, a reaction there. The dark spills into the flow. It grows with an appetite for consuming every stream available. The hiding places become springs, welling forth the plague once dormant within. Then follows the flood. The cascade grows, covering every surface, blocking all light, clogging every escape.
The intrusion alters the current, making the stream turbulent, chaotic, imprisoning, trapping the untainted mind. Rationality screams for release, damning the theft of its tide. Injected thoughts forced to steal from a history of memories to be justified, falsely. Sanity strained, searching for the keys by which to push back the flood and turn the tide.
Time is the greatest agony. The ever encroaching dark seeps its way into every facet of life. It ruins and spoils, fractures and breaks all that with value, taking its sweet, precious time. In its cruelest moments the dark opens pinholes of light, like stars in the night, dark fading away, for an ever brief moment, providing the false hope this torment will end.
The crushing dark squeezes the mind, pulsing vision, dehydrating bones. Confusion, second guessing, instigated fear, and blocking time and memory, slapping the face of reality with expanded corners encompassing time and space. Sanity retreats until the dark has had its fill. Aided by broken biochemistry and a history of trauma, the dark fills the center.
Spoiling, sabotaging, demoralizing, and threatening, the dark devours until it is full. Its hunger satiated, its energy lost, it seeps back into the corners. It does not leave quietly, but as raucous as it arrived. Laughing and berating the dark leaves its scars and devastation. With the final embrace of an abusive lover, it intimates its return. Broken sanity lying on the floor is now left to recover, but never truly will.
