Tendrils of smoke wisp through the air, searching for something to grab ahold of. Like the claws of the devil clawing at your soul they seem to cling to every object they come in contact with. Pulling, dissolving everything into more tendrils reaching even further still. Clutching at your feet the smoke begins to work, you are no longer rooted to the earth. You begin to float on the smoke, almost euphorically, you feel your body dissolve into nothing and now you are the smoke, searching for your next victim. Clinging to your very existence you begin to become one with the smoke around you. Like a fog, you move forward destroying everything in your path until nothing is left. You no longer know who you are. You no longer exist. You are nothing. Nothing but a tendril whisking through the air for something to cling to and make your own. Searching for an identity but removing every identity you touch until you realize, you cannot be anything but what you are; nothing.
~ BlondeHeadedHunk ~