Somewhere in the depths of my perception lives an old man. His features are gnome like and he wears a red pointy hat. His grey beard drags across the floor, occasionally tickling my mind, but he quickly notices, and prevents it from touching.
I swindle and sway, about the room as if he's intoxicated me with knowledge, but he is not a friendly gnome. He is one half of a darkened heart that's wormed its way from the chest to the brain. He controls which thoughts and words come from my body and is drowned by medication prescribed to heal my soul.
The older I get, the younger he becomes, causing unexplainable mishaps and outbursts. My tolerance for human beings and life are lowered because this gnome does not respect life. He watches through my eyes, tugging at the retinas so he can see what terrible things we do to each other and what terrible events unfold.
The moon is the only thing that makes him smile because it is the universal sign for sleep.
While I close my eyes, he plans and plots, to erase man kind with three simple gestures;
To Love,
Live,
And
Lie.
