Torn

In the face of the ideal impersonator, words are echos.
Sleeping pictures and scenes all alike, in a million frozen fragments.
Through the scarred palms of the leviathan, slips chaff that was once sweet breath.
A millennium passes every day, a legion of miles each step.
Mind and tears of ice evolve, to a grain of time boxed for the future.
It cowers silently in the distance, not daring to move the air.

Night Insanity

Alas, pleasantness, horror cavorts tonight,
Frolicking with madness through the recesses of your mind.
Beware of the acts performed within your sight,
The tyranny of images on the inside of your eyes.
By this state that you enjoy, be fooled not,
The sky falls from beneath your feet and leaves you in the dark.
Delight in the view, delight in the plot,
But slip not into the picture, lest evil win tonight.

I am thunder

The soft, wispy clouds build into a wall of blackness, that bursts with such light, and such earth shaking might. My heart races, the storm has charged me with it's strength, and I run, leaping into the flow of power.
My body tingles, exhilarated, the flavour of rain on my lips, the smell of lightening on my wet chilled skin. The wind uncoils from my sides, churning the excited air, as I snap a whip of electricity. I split open the swollen sky with a terrifying, satisfying crack, and a rumble erupts from deep within me.