Queen Tore Flesh From Bone

The abyssal wellspring of my creativity overflows like a deluge; turquoise waves crashing against the dunes of apathy - and in the eddies of the cosmic whirlpool tines of my inspiration; snatch,
as I navigate the vortex of the void, I am drawn to the forgotten - where shadows dance with the yue light, and the rusted hinges of mortality creak open the door to the chthonic/Styx/benthic depths of my inner sanctum, revealing the monstera inside me.

The doppelgänger, mockery's echo of myself, cackles maniacally, her head snapping to the side with a bone-chilling crunch, as she whispers secrets to the darkness within me churning a stormy sea of madness, I felt myself being pulled apart; thread by thread by the fungal tendrils that now writhed like living things on my newly-molded flesh.

The mushrooms continued to sprout, a nightmarish forest of - twisted/obsidian growths that seemed to be drawing the very life from me, I could feel my consciousness slipping away, like - sand between fingers - as the fungus consumed me whole; as the last vestiges of my humanity dwindled, replaced by an creeping sense of numbness, as if I were nothing more than a puppet, being manipulated by some malignant force - beyond my control.

And in the depths of my mind, a cold/calculating voice whispered,

"This is the end. This is the beginning."

As the swirl of ash and dust carried me - a spectral voyager - through the void, the doppelgänger's eyes grew brighter, like lanterns guiding me through the darkness waves of creativity, a maelstrom of inspiration, as I felt myself merging with her, becoming one with the madness that consumed me.

The forgotten places of my mind - long buried - began to stir - like seeds awakened by the warmth; of the void's vacuum sucking out my last breath, and me with it, as I float suspended I wonder, what’s my name?