I sat in the backseat of a car with time slowed down around me, I looked at the trees passing by,
Outside the windows I watched the rolling landscape swirl by. Winding away into the mist of vision, like paint stained water down the drain.

Little birds chirped when we got home, their sounds slipped away on the wind and were replaced with squeals, with screeches and cries.
Inside I heard the walls creek and moan, fingers digging through the wallpaper, clawing through plaster and hard wood.
Hands, reaching out to pull me away, and I ran.
I ran through my home, it was not mine anymore. I could feel it.

The bushes outside of my home, on either end of my lawn blazed violently.
The trees shed their leaves, draped in snakes chanting hymnals backwards in dead languages.
The birds suicide bombed my home.

Inside I saw through the windows, the world consumed in red. The sun, a fragment of the rage I felt consuming me.
My fingers could taste the light, my fingertips felt the red dawn through the vines outside of my home,
Scurrying down rabbit holes and scattering dead easter on the lawn.
I saw my distorted reflection in the mirror.

I felt the burning in my body, the burning from my skull,
My palms bled,
My eyes bled,

My body was another form, a powerful beast in control of the sky.
I heard the fragments of red planets falling on the human horizon.
I felt the souls of wretched divinity failing and falling and flailing in the fires.

I was the daytime,
And the night,
I was the beginning,
And no end,

My name was all,
My name was yours.

We were fire,
And brimstone,
We were damnation.

I would **** you.