There is a mighty stirring in the hollow form of man. There is a need to go deep. There is a need to go out. The universe needs to be explored. Why have cars to go to places we know when the unknown is so accessible? The places seen are those of the church. They are those of the great wondering thing that consumes those that do not see it coming.
The blind can see it coming. The blind who actively explore and navigate alien spaces every day. It is the ones who use their eyes that do not see. They do not explore and race for the places they have already been and complain when those places are made new and exciting.
His world is constant disarray. He doesn’t even care. Entropy has taken him by the throat and there was nothing to be done. Could he, if there was a thought to, yell? If he had tried to yell.
If yelling had ever come upon a mind as it stretched thoughts to define that which had no hands yet held him aloft by the throat. It had eyes but saw only the nothing that covered itself in human flesh and fear. It had no heart yet pulsated with rage and sought to draw blood and make it flow. It had no feet but it had traveled here.
Had it traveled? Did it move? Did it wait here all along? Did it wait for them to wander into it’s corner and simply pick up the pitiful ones or was it here all along? Was it waiting for the person to live. It was done waiting. It was done threatening death.
The ever present threat of death stared him in the face everyday. Yet, he did not move from it. He did not become motivated. He did not explore. There was no clever creation with which to distract the monster.
That, which stared into the all consuming void of nothing, waited for creation. It waited for the green glow of growth. It waited for the hot fiery red of true lust of two beings tearing into each other. It waited for the purple glow of patience and teaching. It waited, in waist, to see what an opportunity had afforded him.
There was nothing. The little gifts were wasted. the hate and the anger and the bordom all shone sheer black. It was void. Nothing. darkness. void of color. void of thought. void of meaning. Contemplations of nothing. Riggles of comfort. Struggle of meaningless ness. They sat unimpressed by the glories. It sat hungry.
It is nothing but a cannibal. The void of a monster sought to grow. To deepen. to feel the hole in which it did not live continue to deepen with more meaningless words. To feel the cold emotionless state of everything pulse. To know that there was no thought.
Now, it holds him aloft but is also held aloft by him, as it always was. The man’s skin peels away and the empty blackness comes out. He opens his rapidly deteriorating mouth. Teeth separate as they spread in the air. They separate from the gums, the gums from the skin and the skin from the bone. All slowly wrenching away from each other. The man’s clothes are burnt away. His eyes balloon and flush red as they fixate on hoisting the thing out of its corner. The pit of reality, that stressed under the massive weight, groaned at the shifting ulcer. The man’s skin tore to reveal the emptiness. The black hole of longing and no longer longing. His mouth was gone but still consumed the beast, enveloped the void into his dark nothing.
The universe groaned, impaled once more. The skin settled into blackness. The flames faded into shadow, wavering on the edge of existence and skewing the view of reality. The darkness consumed itself. It stared past all that is and to that which does not. That which does not move. That which shows not color. That which suppresses all life within itself into a dark colorless void. That feeds the emptiness. That it should continue to consume and destroy the things that do not wish to be. It only think of nothing and seek maintain the merciless stillness. The stilled earth and burdened reality. It exists only in oblivion and to oblivion. Behind and around all that is empty and void, it consumes itself and us.