Dysplasia

There was no one who could truly confront it, let alone man.

May God have mercy.

The four could only hurl insults and abstract vocabulary into each other as reality slowly set in.

Help will not come. Their minds had warped and puddled into the abstract abysmal consciousness of the gaping maw before them.

Sticky like glue and itchy on the flesh, it had assaulted their senses at every turn, between every blinding sprint, and as a constant undercurrent to never release its spindly grip.

Jack had turned his gaze skyward. The cerulean cloudscape he had come to gaze upon during the war to collect his heart and sever his connection to reality for a time had been replaced with an empty void beating down on his shivering, pale head.

The others were manic. Enraged, The Corporal had begun a violent outburst.

It was horribly human, seeing a man once revered had succumb to probability and crumbled to the Earth in a fit of ignorance and confusion. It was man in the raw; as if The Corporal was struggling against a claustrophobic episode caused by his own inability to comprehend.

Orion could only watch. Dumbfounded and frozen, he exhibited no emotional triumph or failure.

He did not hope nor did he despair.

His ungainly features had somehow become harmonious in this particular moment of fervor and apathy.

There was no time to waste for Cain, however. No, he was certain of certainty's omnipotence. He knew that the human condition was both a blessing and a curse.

Humans, being composed of mind, body, and soul can both only experience good through these three vectors as well as evil.

Yes, a blessing and a curse, to be sure.

Cain had done it. He knew what to do. Yes, all that must be done is what’s in front of the human in question.

Why must one live?

One must live because it is what is currently in front of them.

Why must one die?

One must die because it is what is currently in front of them.

Cain need only ensure that death may never steal his attention.

Yes, he was quite certain of this.

While neither of them had any particular expectations, the dire mood had conjoined and their perversions from the truth laid bare, vulnerable but persistent.

The metronomic drip towards consciousness and tensions rising was just barely enough. The men stood as man, condensed into their most basic attributes.

It has been studied countless times in and of itself, but the human condition seems to elude even the most stagnantly curious and gaudy interests.

I’m sure you’re wondering if it ever even mattered, at this point. Why personify the insignificant?

The story continued, did it not?

If all live as one, does one truly matter to all?

Ah, the human affliction gnashes its teeth once more.

To get your point across, to persist, to maintain and fumigate, to struggle, persevere, to oppose and wade, to live, it must hurt to be so passionately wrong yet steadily goaded into mischievous antithesis.

Yes, I know you as you are, obsessed with security and logic.

There is no objectivity, only harmony in this creature.

There was, is, and shall be myself.

However, it did at least feel real.

It felt so abstractly plain and manifest to my destiny.

Nothing was any different, but the outlier glared back into me.

There was flow, prayer, and infinity.

At least, for a while.

Now?

All that's left is obscurity and plainness.

Yes, my home.