NO DAY BUT TODAY

Here comes the messenger. The red spots all over are signs of his calling. This is a phase. It is procedural. One by one more signs will come. One by one. One by one. The rate at which this will manifest is still uncertain. However, the fact of their existence is indeed certain.

Here comes the messenger. After casting boils and sores upon my physical entity, he is now claiming my voice. Second by second, it is slowly vanishing. Second by second. Second by second. I fear only to rely on writing as a means of communication. However, my opinion has no longer any meaning as regards this.

Here comes the messenger. The blood drops. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Glory.