Elixir

When a picture is blurry, is it truly because we could not hold still? There is a darkness that heralds... A darkness that makes us sick. Not of the like a sickness, but of all there is that is sick. A darkness you can hold on to without knowing it's there or how to rid of it's viral power. A magic that keeps one from knowing who or what one can look or are. A moving blackness of it's own palace traveling unto our bodies, that we categorize into names such as cancer. We fight what is it with our alchemy. These strands of black static possess a nostalgia to be, or to let be the usurper. Do we hark to it?

After photosynthesizing as a sun-gazer in the last of the daylight, a silhouette opened my door on the same sunny, confusing night. There were more than one ghosts like this in my room sitting and watching me interact with each of them as they lined up to do so. Elementally, these beings looked surprised that the door was able to be moved. Maybe, they merely acted this way. When I looked at some of them they moved in flashes that hid my light from them or shapeshifted into other images to fit in the shadows. Images that looked of animals, children, or people in my daily life. Some of the images they used were mixed with gore almost as if they were stuck in the images of their death, if ghosts is who they were. When I turned my bedroom light on they dissipated from mine sight. Deciding to learn I kept it off.

First, they tried to hand me bottles or touch my hands to theirs. Second, they hooked me up to a machine, attached wires to me and checked my blood pressure. Thirdly, they began with a saw to saw my feet off and my spirit writhed without me as they did. Needles were being stuck into my legs, too. I was being tortured in a realm and there was an inaudible, or completely silent audience. Lastly, they stood over my body, touched me in places they didn't own, and strangely touched my dog in the same manner. I kept calm outwardly. Were the silhouettes who they looked like they were? Sometimes in this moment it seemed they could hear my thoughts but did not respond to my questions. The messes of zip tie sized black static roamed my room until one of them decided to take a handful of these. The silhouette took the image of a teenage boy with Adam apple long brown hair. The boy had a frail, lanky posture and his features were hidden in the shadows. When I asked him what he was handing me he started an answer but almost as if on purpose did not finish it.

Sometime before this night a neighbor, Paula and I talked at the pool of the apartment complex we rented. Apparently, people are being tortured for their adrenaline that is extracted by needle and concocted into a drug. The cell produced by the plasma in the blood in their duration of torture was said to look like an upside down rabbit and emanates a green glowing light beneath a microscope. They call it “Adrenal Chrome”. The question to how the drug was relevant to myself or the question as to how Paula knew of the act is still unanswered. When I closed my eyes on that night with my light I witnessed someone planting the static magic in a moment of the past where I had been familiar. Someone gave me a sickness. I consider that an insanity may be thrusted upon me so much so I could have been paranoid or hallucinating. Although, a door was opened.

The possibility of the strength that an evil lives on as a sickness does is not a fear of mine. Might it be that a picture is blurry because we cannot be still enough as we cannot also find a cure for cancer is a mystery. Maybe, there is no such thing as synthetic adrenaline. As a snail moves too slowly across the street that a car might end a life of the species, a person with an allergic reaction to peanuts cannot be helped due to the purpose of the accident. Are good and evil that opposite that an evil act could save a life? How strong can good be if evil is just as equal? The answers to the two questions above might remain anonymous. If darkness needs a host as light does, what is there to listen to if each spectrum is full of silence? A usurp could be what makes a dream of perfect good, or imperfect evil end the equality, or inequality. A righteous adrenaline rush could so happen to embark to save a life with the simplicity of a thought that becomes encrypted into an action.