Stop.
Breathe.
Choke back the churning bile.
And all the while the cloud expands and greets its onyx twin.
It builds
And builds
But doesn’t burst.
Yet the worst cracks and rolls through the cells in your labyrinth of sin.
It grows
Closer.
It gets harder to ignore.
Then the floor fractures and the shadows eye where you’ve been.
Clouded.
Lost.
Afraid of your mind.
And what the shadows will find before the growth of the ever present rumble once again begins.
