I remember watching your dark shadows of all different shapes and people, day and night, move across the landscape. I never knew your name.
I witnessed your worlds and dangers which only I could see and experience;
being buried alive in clouds of earth and rain isn’t nice you know.

You released a ripple inside my soul; wild; untamable; starving for my own flesh and blood and soul.
It did not take long for it to become a tsunami, an ephemeral disaster of reality’s true desire to end Humanity, breaking me again, and again, and again against the sharp cliffs of my patch-worked psyche.

I have no need to tame you. Not when you bring me such euphoria.
I have no desire to cease your wonderful, yet terrific cursed blessing of mine.

You allow the worlds I imagine, and the danger I make up, and the death I create flow from my mind and onto the pages I endlessly write in now. An addiction to the tsunami I can never be free of. An addict seeking the fix my mind gives you.

How does it feel now that I have become the ripple? The tsunami? I bet you’re starving to fuel this shared addiction of ours; your imagination to my reality.

So, what should I write next?