Fog

Fog, the fallen cloud, envelopes the world everywhere around me, yet never touches me. Oppressive and neglectful at once, it weighs down upon me intangibly. The demonic haze provokes me with tastes of itself. The strokes of clammy mists against my neck, the silence playing in my ears, the seemingly solid wall of white that fades into oblivion with every step towards it. It torments me, chills me, and grips me. It teases me to the brink of reason, where, on the other side of that vaporous veil lurk pleasure, pain, and power. An ecstasy of horror, incomprehensible force, or am I the being that others fear? I am bound to the untouchable and the unknowable.