In which sanity is relative...

It would be courteous of me to warn you, gentle reader, that this particular entry lives farther from the citadel of human sanity than we have thus far ventured. Some of you may refer me back to the bizarre, nightmarish poetry I forced upon you earlier in the year, but personally, I think this is ever so slightly worse. It's another of my short fictional "monologues" (if you will) but, unlike last month's, it wouldn't require vast reserves of mental prowess to imagine this one actually being a monologue... Repeated over and over... Accompanied by the gentle rocking of hunched shoulders...

We’re conditioned to believe, from a very young age, that nightmares are a harmless consequence of possessing a multi-faceted brain. For reasons unfathomable, we have attached to the spectral phantoms of waking sleep the insignia of the villain, whilst denying their capacity for villainy. Those claws that grope blindly from the dark, we are told they are not to be feared. Those eyes that gleam moistly out of oblivion, we are informed they are the enemies of reason, and that reason alone can keep them at bay. I lack that faith in the power of human reason, my friends...

I remember the way it danced. I remember the movements of its body, and how its head remained quite still, and its face seemed suspended in deranged glee. I remember something suggestive in the curl of the lips that flaked like charred wood, and in the wetness of the eyes that leered out from cavernous sockets. Its limbs were like liquid, and this made it difficult to discern their number, as did the hypnotically eclectic pattern they drew through the thick air. The worst part though, was not the paralysed face, nor the decaying lips, nor the moist eyes, nor the incomprehensible limbs. 

It was that the thing danced in silence, to the mute melody of human reason dying.

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I hope you enjoyed that. I seem incapable of writing anything more than three paragraphs long these days. Anyroad, I'm still trying to write a normal entry, but I'm getting nowhere fast. Consequently, you can look forward to another fictional titbit some time in the near future. It's half finished, and in a (borderline) similar vein as this 'ere literary "bad trip". I wrote it at a time some people know as 5am! Can you BELIEVE it?

Cheerio!

Jamie