Her psychosis was so  drawn out  it had taken on an invisible quality – a deceptive, deathly subtlety.

Its stringy, sucking tentacles had enveloped her mind so slowly and so long ago, that when her final break with reality did come, it was simply the lifeless conclusion to an astoundingly logical existence.

She was the last fleck of milky pink paint on an otherwise smooth steel handrail, teeming with a million invisible bacterium. Just waiting to be picked off.

 

Did your cortisol rise when you read this? Did your dopamine/serotonin/oxytocin begin to flow freely?

If my writing has elicited some sort of emotion within you, please help support my work. You can do this by:

  1. Contributing to my GoFundMe
  2. Leaving a comment explaining why you love/hate what you’ve seen here today
  3. Submitting a story idea or commissioning a piece

Thank you for supporting independent journalism and savage satire.

Advertisements