Death Awaits Throne

When it comes to this creature, I almost want to chain it down to weakness. It feels weird, and it is weird, to say this but I don’t want it too strong. Though there is some part of me that wants to keep my ego in check, there’s another that’s… scared.

I don’t know. I’ve been feeling a thousand emotions at once lately and it gets hard to discern between the ones that make legitimate sense and then the ones that… don’t.

I used to think of small towns when I thought of this creature, but now I think of Portsmouth. I think of the urban warfare and the rotting suburban outskirts with the perpetually gray core that is the city. It’s as if it is eating away at the metaphorical heart of my home.

It’s on my mind the most when I’m exploring my neighborhood at night. When I look across where the ruined bridge used to be, when I pass through the glow of the streetlights, and when the Winter rain crashed down upon my hoodie.

There isn’t really a picture for this creature, because it can be inside of anything. It has the power of transferring itself from between bodies, or even objects. It’s the darkness that lurks outside of the streetlight. It’s the urban decay that destroyed the bridge. It’s the gray Winter clouds up above. It can be everything and nothing at any time in no time.

It feels like Death. It feels like Decay. It feels like Darkness. It feels like I’m dying.

And yet, even though it’s the most grand of all the creatures, it’s become something weak and diluted.

It’s a fallen King that waits to climb up on its throne once again.