Nadir

Summer's salty doom knocked ruggedly as I lay on the sheets of tormented threats and turmoil. Jerks at the slightest beep. Gasps at a faint knock. Soaked in muddy debts of frauds. A muscle pull of shame, death's soulful companion. The world didn't stop cascading. I did. My brain froze. My veins couldn't remember my blood, and I could feel its stiffness through my cold skin. I stopped living. It felt like he who created time set me on a boundless, devastating fall. I was a lagomorph of enchanted snares. A labyrinth of taloned twists. The anatomy of lingered pain. Where the back of my brain no longer received prompts, maybe because I had weaved pain so much that its loins found solace in my abdomen, intertwined with my soul's verisimilitude. Nadia's fist and pals alike. Appeared to grip me. But I craved aloneness. I couldn't tell which hand was a viper. Fluids of thunderous tangerine mines jogged my customized gaze. It was neither a feeling nor an emotion. It was dreadful emptiness, same with the physical state of my hut. A presage of betrayed thoughts entangled through my darkness. Decorated in beige clouds of adversity, I sunk into a spellbound loophole. A rend of rageful vaquita Invaded my closed Lacuna, Filled with sharks of injuries Ready to let loose. I plunged into a cynosure of drunken tenebrosity. Like a mishap, unheeded. You would think I was a Leadless peregrine in escort Of blinded dolphins. I dug into the earth's inner core. My eyes went blurry. I could breathe the juices of my burnt spirit. I should have left. The pit of cause. But even the mirror couldn't recognize itself through me, so how could I? How could I have found myself? In a mind sea filled with shattered, blurry memories and murdered mundane desires. I was despair and denial in a basket of calls. Muted mutation in caskets of answers. Bones birthed blood. Fractions purged from my spine. I was a nightmare, the kind with lashes of stale runes drawn like tattoos with fermented, ghastly inks. I was the ocean—merciless. A curse tied to a repetitive fate. The water in me represented the seasonal tears, and unlike humans, mine never dried up. A constant reminder of bloated anguish. Every day, I watched people find pleasure in my pain when they looked at me, when they touched me. Their laughter and tranquillity threw me to the depths of myself. My demise.