From the aether, a nebula of objects and ideas began to coalesce, stirring madly in the pot of his brain. Bizarre connections, distorted beliefs, and hidden desires surfaced in this ungoverned vision which now pressed itself into his head, drowning him, and yet awakening him to a reality of imagination, fear, and nonsense. Creativity, that beautiful abomination, the source of our chaos, now unchained, enveloped his mind to stir the concoction to its whim, and to subdue the reason implanted within, which now, asleep, retreated to the core and surrendered control. Seizing the reins, creativity, the carefree brute, dragged him through this torrent of his subconscious, swirling him across this flavorful galaxy, now here, now there, as his impulses excited him. One moment delighting in the fulfillment of the constant search for love, the next reveling in the recognition of imagined heroics, then remembering the fear of smothering helplessness in the everlasting game of survival and prosperity, and at last, moved, sobbing at the perceived reality of the end of life, a true, terrifyingly mysterious death. Each night, fifty new exhibitions to shape into a new ridiculous masterpiece, and when the time comes, the man becomes the subject, and the beast his master.
Writer To Writer Literary Journal 