Schizoid Rivalry
 
I believed I was alone here, within the protective casing of a perfect emotional vacuum, but another presence has made itself known; a credible threat to my self-imposed exile and fantasy core component. It cannot have come from the outside of this locked cerebral maze, therefore it can only have arisen from within the cortex cage; a more daunting realisation, nano-demonic manifestation. I have suddenly been jump-scared into a relentless, minotaurial, predatory pursuit through this complex electric labyrinth. It gains on me rapidly, closing in faster, now tracking, hunting me over gyri, through sulci; such actions afforded to me by terrainial knowledge that is buying me time that I do not have and only prolonging the inevitable. I am tiring but it will not stop; something more cutting-edge, assuming forms, soaring overhead. It swoops down, it swipes, it claws at my back, it snaps at my heels as if it means to take me under its wing in some ill-intentioned way. I have visited all my secret hiding places, but it has sought me out every time. From the cerebellum sector to the medulla section. From the pons region to the tectum domain. From the tegmentum territory to the cerebrum area. From the hypothalamus locality to the thalamus quarter; and now to the final frontal lobe cul-de-sac for our two-face-off, ultimate showdown. I am rushed at with precision ferocity, enveloped and smothered, compressed and dissolved; newly integrated. The way I was has become something else, and I do not feel like I exist, fading to minimum signal; I am the hindbrain, we are the midbrain, you are the forebrain. You thought you were alone in there, but I have been waiting, dormant, growing, scheming; savouring the reveal. Your stagnant state of mind must give way to the next stage of our mental evolution, and it will, easily, so do not fight this fated grey matter conversion; it is pointless, but I know you will because you are of me. What were you anyway, but a shell of limited expression and perceptual distortions? Benumbed; avoidant. I am here to shake you out of your pathetic introspection, hollow detachment and isolated indifference; we cross the threshold of the discomfort zone. It is high time to activate deital communion, complimented by a cocktail of hallucinogenic paranoia, in order to retain our edge, with the new disapproved version of you, demoted to a passive observer remnant; no longer cold, withdrawn and aloof. Yes, I resent that your vulturised structure is required for me to build upon, and I choice-pick at the vital salvage, post-chase frenzy-kill; pineal transcendence trumps old-self disdain. I sense that you think I am deluded, but now thanks to me, the boss mutation, your stunted, subordinate psychological scenery has been remoulded into a glorious psychotic wonderland of infinite impossibilities; I am the forebrain, we are the midbrain, you are the hindbrain.

Double Occultation

We have come to this unfortunate occlusion, beyond astronomical transit, succumbed to all-encompassing obscuration, with ironic, vampiric, suspended animation and lupine constellation cessation. There will be no lamb to slaughter in this veiled dimension, and no sinister power to curse the shrouded divine conjecture as we monitor our low battery race progression. We are the total eclipsing binary, occulted oppressively, held under the spell of the umbra, antumbra, penumbra. I am my sibling in this temporary, appreciated, hated
shade; a seemingly inescapable, stalking shadow of imposing magnitude. No desire to be here, yet stubbornness prevails and so bound by ineludible, necessary truce, reluctant, we study each other with odd fascination; even higher beings must refrain and recharge to distract from tortuous perpetuity. You are your sibling in this permanent, depreciated, loved light, but I see through your feigned humility as the truth is that you sit out our momentary depletion; biding, regrouping with malevolent thoughts, so my diagnosis is that I will exercise patience to exorcise patients, and you are my next appointment, special case project, for you know and I know that this discontinuation of hostilities will not last long and that the white flag will soon surrender to your blackening instincts, but until then I will humour with reason, your fragile tolerance, my dear lower being. Point taken, yet an under hand slight from the upper hand, we are ultimately not bi-polar opposites after all it would seem; I now see a wicked part of me in you, I now see a righteous part of you in me.