I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. A rumble, a march, of things so tiny. Invading, and devouring, and sprawling, without a sense of direction. Stampeding, and bouncing here and there, greedy of life. And sprouting, life of there own.Growing their Kingdom, in the territory of the foreign, akin to a portrayal of Mongolian brutishness. Crude, and parasitic, conquering everything, in a massacre so merciless. In a progression, in a chaos...
Meanwhile, I stumbled over spoons and knives. A rack yet clattered somewhere on the floor. I bumped into something. Outside the kitchen window, a small, pretty bird perched on a stalk jutting out its blue breast, and sang. Life inside everything flaunted like a bare truth, so envied, so longed for. I had clutched my head. I was pulling out my hair, wincing and out of breath, screaming and crying. Longing for the shades of life, that were outside. But pain sucked the patience out of me. While I was in a dilemma over it, a hand of mine grabbed a knife. And slit my throat a couple of times. There was a rush of million cells, a gush of blood, all liberated. Chaotic. Painting my dress red. While the exuberant Life shouted at me to stop, those little marching bodies inside my head had declared it done. Those tiny cells had enormous strength, they murdered, they engulfed. They made a mass of a cancerous tumor inside my head. And I couldn't bear it no more. So, I made the final cut..
Now as the serenity of Utopia finally prevailed, and there was no more disorder, but a hue of godlike purple everywhere, like on the wings of the fairies and angels, I knew I chose right.