Interface
I live in two worlds.
Up, down. Light, darkness. Kindness, wickedness. Smile, black eyes. Wealth, poverty. The surface, the underground.
A world where I walk, a world where I crawl.
You who live upstairs, what do you think you’ll find when you lift that plaque?
Get Samouraï des Lumières’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
The stench of my unhealthy thoughts will trepan you.
It’s a potpourri of your worst nightmares.
Like Pennywise the Clown, tearing off your shoulder, fed by my fears, exalted by yours.
Keep your hands off her. She’s your only protection against me. An interface between good and evil, she gobbles up all the good moments and throws only the bad ones back in your face. Guardian of the sewer of my being, it must not give way.
Those of you who read this, keep only the memories of me wandering on the surface.
Yes, this surface.
Inexhaustible source of light, striking the metal of the plate, reminding the depths that it still exists, somewhere, far away in the winter of my soul.
