Playtime

For the past 45 min, Facebook has refused to accept any input citing database issues. For once, this is a good thing. The amount of unrefined rage that has been bubbling over in my soul for the previous hour had begun to twist at the fabric of my being. I had attempted to pour some of the overflow onto a status, and quickly realized that I was trying to force into an incarnation of legible combinations of consonants and vowels, a potent magic spell.

That if spoken aloud would surely open a portal to some dark realm of seething hate and unending torment. The missive would summon the Flying Maggots of Unending Infection to come forward through the portal, gnawing at the edges of the festering wound in spacetime and expanding it ever larger until the Hungered Ones are able to enter this bright and shining world.

They would come straight to me, called forward by the putrid bile that continued to pour from the unchecked rage. A mucus streaked humor that would twist and corrupt my flesh until all that is human about me is burned away. The Hungered Ones will wait for me to complete my transformation into the Mother of Blasphemies and at my first unholy shriek of pain, while straining from the birthing of the first of the Corrupting Wastes they will go forward and tear and rend at the very forces that structure the world until all is made void and only the choking echoes of screams remain.

But, Facebook decided that maybe I needed some chill out time and so, prevented me from pouring my rage raw into my status.

So, no walking Blasphemies today.

~kicks pebble~

And I was gonna have some fun with them, too.