Member-only story
No Longer Human
Flower of evil
Is this a fool’s paradise?
Peccability is the certitude, and tribulation, its corollary.
Nay, it is no sin, but I was purblind and abstracted.
However trite, I am only human.
The spring of life: youth and adolescence; they swindled me under the guise of innocence.
Alas, I conceded to this quagmire, for I lived not as an incredulous lion but a virtuous camel.
Emanates: the petrichor from the evening rain; basks in the moonlight: my deranged beast.
There is no other life for which I yearn nonetheless, for the fires in my inner child shall bolster my spirit.
Bloom, you flower of evil, with your righteous petals; howbeit, pervades my recesses is the stench from the blazing scales of a golden dragon.
A soliloquy then: “May your breath ignite my candle and illuminate my pale twilight.”
I shall not ruminate what ensues henceforth, for my child has bestowed upon me this one truth: I am no longer human.
