The destruction of the spirit is an instantaneous shock.
Its lasting echoes whip about in the mind like a dragon’s tail. But the true damage only lasts a moment. The problem is that there are so many moments and so many aftershocks.
I am — we are — watching you in every moment that you chip away at our form; we see your delight in the moments that you forget we are not a block of marble to sculpt.
We are alive.
You forget this at your leisure, but your endless, instantaneous, zealot-like fervor is as a leaky faucet dripping water onto the center of our forehead. It makes you chuckle, a light, fleeting moment that even you forget after you have already forgotten us.
And that’s the problem with abusers: the leaky faucet never gets fixed.
But madness — madness has liberated me from the grasp of the reality you forced me into.
Magick is the great and first and always equalizer, but you who are bound by the reality which blinds you to yourself, cannot conceive of a world which lies beyond the tyranny of impossibility.
This flash fiction piece was written as a companion piece to my original painting of the same name, pictured above.
Prints for the painting can be purchased at my Etsy store, CLouiseStudio!