Head-to-wall futility

Stress-induced blogging disorder.

Blow out the candle and follow me into the dark, footsteps snapping at your heels like dogs on the hunt, all ragged breathing and red eyes burning. Like sulphur.

There's a spark in your eyes that burns. A faint acrid smell of fire and brimstone, of rage unchecked, all-consuming, a demon, a monster, a djinn, Efrit, the dragon the Destroyer of worlds, a gaping mouth that swallows the sun. And it is nothing but a spark.

 

And while I was bored in class.

A moment of madness. A moment of ire. A moment of disdain. The things you do and can never, never, take back.