it's about madness
a carriage car trundled past my window, all peeling paint and rickety wheels. a man looked out, dark eyes hidden by the hat falling off his head, saliva dripping from his chin and wild madness oozing from within him.
the madness tripped outside the carriage car. i saw it stumbling, lost and looking for shelter, towards my peering gaze. i blinked, and it was closer, jumping against my window, battering down my doors. i tried to stop it; i promise you i did. i did all i could to stop the madness coming in, but in it came.
it’s grin was equivalent to that of a mad hyena, or a dog with rabies. it’s grin haunts me even to this day. it clawed at me, opening gashes to let itself in. hot tears fell from my face as it jumped through the open wounds, dancing and singing throughout my body. it ran rampant throughout me, cutting my blood and heart and mind into little strings for it to play with. dark pills fell onto it sometimes, and they knocked it out, giving the relief of sanity to cleanse and wash throughout me whilst it slept. but the madness awoke, it always awoke, and was even more untameable and full of fury when it realised what i had done to it to keep it quiet.
the madness runs throughout me. it plays with my blood and heart and soul. it burrows in and out through cuts, and when it sings it sends hot tears from my eyes. i feel it in my eyes, my heart, my blood.
i feel the madness in my bones.