I move through the ether, weaving through words and thoughts until I become part of the fabric. I am the darkness, the evil, the depression, the negative energy, the various and sundry names to label the same feelings. I feed on it all, taking over and eliminating all manner of joy, happiness, cooperation, collaboration, assistance and aid. The rich and powerful are the first to fall, the easiest to remove, for they worship god money and are already a step removed from humanity, human suffering, the lost. The monks are harder, they control their minds, their emotions and do not see reality as others. They reject materialism. Artists are harder still, the creative types, for they straddle both worlds, craving attention yet settling inside themselves. They play with muses, dancing in the dark, reflecting joy and darkness. They use suffering to create. Once the artists are removed the rest will crumble.
Before the world ends, before I tear it asunder, I remain still in reflection for a self-portrait. I know loneliness, sadness, isolation, desolation. My scythe sliced through the joy with my envy. My scythe cut down humanity in a digital age, given more social networks but less social skills, unable to communicate, unable to decipher meaning, intention, thoughts. Unable to connect.