Enter.

I prefer the wicked wash over me like a gentle shower cleansing my spirit as I try to defeat my next enemy. Or so I say, the enemy is within, but I can’t stand what it looks like without. That troubled figure is me, and I don’t know what to do other than allow and nurture the darkness that comes over me as if my body is an impending storm and my thoughts the rain that floods low land dry.

Advertisements