The night foretold an unbinding tale of a man named Devon who danced in his emotional fire with a fierceness that consumed his soul.
For every waking hour, his dance took him on a journey of peril going on in his mind embodied with illusions brought on by schizophrenia. The voices echoing inside his head tortured him with their enticing chants, putting him in a trancelike state. His heart bled out songs of the past, enveloping his entire being with ghosts, taunting him with their shouting.
Throughout the night, Devon prayed for relief, as he stood by his bedroom window covering his face with his hands. Sunlight coming into the window, furthered his torture when seeing deep into the core of his soul, feeding on his rage boiling over, because he argued with the voices inside his head.
He often had difficulty sleeping, because his mind wouldn’t be silenced. His bare walls fed upon his lonely existence. Shadows danced before his eyes, as they came closer and closer, bringing on paranoia.
In his waking hours, he saw images of gunmen aiming their weapons at him. This was the main reason he covered his face, especially his eyes. He figured if they were out of sight, they would be out of mind. However, the voices continued to echo inside his head, chanting violently, creating a storm swirling out of control.
He began pounding his fists into his bedroom walls, so he could fight off the enemies he saw standing before him. With every blow he made, the voices got louder and louder, eating up his spirit, and feeding upon his rage with a vengeance.
The power that lies within him is slowly fading from his conscience. All that he holds sacred is entombed inside of his mind, trapped by the ghosts of his past. With his illusions blown up beyond control, he sees his loved ones as the enemy, because he believes the voices enticing him with their lies.
Covering his face once more, he sinks down to the floor, dropping to his knees, moving his head back and forth, side to side, as he screams from the top of his lungs for the voices to stop.
There was an eruption within his soul, causing his screams to become louder and louder to drown out the voices shouting at him in his mind. However, all he can do is drown out the voices with his own voice, even though his efforts fail him. His spirit rises up against these hecklers brought on by his illusions. He breaks down in tears, shouting, “Oh God, tell them to leave me the hell alone. I can’t take this anymore. They don’t belong here. I belong with people who actually care about me. Why, Lord, would you allow this to happen to me. Make them stop. I don’t want anymore of this chanting that echoes inside my mind. Give me a grip on life,” as he wept hard, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He rocks back and forth with his head buried in his lap, and his arms wrapped around his legs.
Pushing himself up from the floor with his feet, he stands up straight, while using the wall to brace himself. He leans his back against it, covers his face with his hands while blocking the sun from his eyes, and takes deep breaths to calm himself down.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015