A continuation of the writing I started the other day. Felt as though I needed to finish my thought on the very physical manifestation of the monster that is my lupus.....
Its skin shines off the distant light, smooth and hairless. A black so dark that hints of blue and purple shimmer as it moves to take me. Almost as if beauty lies within the dark shades of its skin. A dark that comforts me most days, a dark that gives me warmth, keeps me safe. And in the same breath, snatches the breath from my throat, chocking the life from me, chocking the life from body. Bringing claw to flesh to darkness to swallow me whole, swallow me into the dank air.
It pulls hard and fast, almost to quick for a reaction right away. And I. I am never quick enough to react. Who could be? The claws are long and sharp. A wrong twist or turn could split open a vein, cutting away more of my mortality.
It's voice though is smooth. As smooth and beautiful as its blue blackness. Sweet and sickly like too much honey, it shivers the lining of my soul, warming my flesh into inflammation and pain. A slow throbbing ache brought on by the melodic chanting of its voice. A Rapture-like thrumming, like the chime of the end time trumpets. It calls to me.
"Eman," it whispers. A slow winding river of that sickly sweet honey. "Eman, let me in."
Sing-song in it's approach, the sickness is tempting. Creeping up slowly, clawing quietly as it makes its way towards me. Its voice disguised as something good. As a means to an end. And that is what it means to do. End the "suffering" it causes and that life causes. That is what it wants to be let into. Into the depths of my soul to unleash me into and back to the earth and heavens from whence I came. That is its desire. After all, that is what the Lupus is. That is what it means. That is what it does. It attacks me. It treats my body, my blood, my heart, me as if I am the enemy. As if I am a sickness. As if I am the disease that needs to be fought. And it fights hard. Because what match am I against claws and strength and darkness. It's everywhere, surrounding and all knowing. And I am solitary and knowing only what a human can know.
"Eman, let me in. Let me do what must be done." Sssssickly sweet is its voice. You almost want to let it take you. Like the cool rush of pain and pleasure from a bite. Almost too much, almost not enough. Almost wanting the bite to be harder, to draw blood, to drain you of life. Almost. Almost. But never entirely. Never. Or maybe the temptation is too great. The voice too sweet to deny. The bite too drawing in its darkness to resist.
There is one difference though. There is NEVER any pleasure in the pain I endure from the darkness that is my Lupus. Never anything tempting me to want to dive deeper into it. I'd rather it the tempting fangs of an evil vampire ready to strike, to kill me, than this god forsaken disease which wishes to kill me off this planet. That is its desire. Because, after all, that is its nature. Who am I to deny nature? I usual circumstances, I'd be fine with letting nature take its course, only this is my life.
It beckons for me to do so though. It whispers to me through the dark, making death sound so sweet. Soothing and cooing me through dreams of lying in coffins and eulogies. And if sweetness doesn't work on it, that is when I am snatched from my surroundings and pulled under by claws and darkness. That is when sharp nails grab into my flesh, bruising and bleeding me. Attacking heart and spleen and brain and joints and muscles and bones and sanity. Attacking all of me, leaving me weak and hopeless after the fight.
It toys with me, making me think I've maybe won after getting away for a moment. But there is no winning. It is the master of the game. It is in charge. It made the game, nows every rule, every passage, every way to play. There is no winning for me. I'm not even sure what the game is in the first place, so how can I play?
But the battle goes on. So it goes and goes and goes.........
No comments:
Post a Comment