In the centre of the darkened room, was a man, folded over a child’s chair. Like a gift-wrapped sacrifice, to a child like entity.
Blood on the floor, ankle deep. Still, yet trembling, as if a deep seismic resonance was leading a dance, rhythmic, subtle, beautiful.
The confusion of wanting disgust, but embracing pleasure, welcoming it.
I look at my conspirers, emulating expression, devoid of etiquette.
I’m here now, I belong. How to move on from normal? Was I ever normal?
I’m home.