The Mad

The musk descends, robed shapes are unmoved. Hunger attacks, but another hunger presses. The lights go out, the world sleeps, the shapes light a candle. Eyes red, unblinking. Frustration, elation, infatuation, mortification, contemplation. The shapes' hearts beat awake, a staggering influence, a breathless intake. An alluring grace, a change of pace, then dash it all away. A monsoon of turmoil, clashing waves, followed by deceptive serenity. The shapes transmit their insanity to print.