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Title: A nightmare world: Madness

by Ross from Somerset | in writing, fiction

Horrid, involuntary, imagination prominent at the forefront at my flow of consciousness.
The reducing valve, sitting at the back of my brain, can no longer regulate the natural drugs, produced by my body, that were only meant in moderation.
The metamorphosising shapes, bright shades of the unknown and my focus controlled by an agent which, in this state, I couldn't possible begin to understand.

I guess you could call it 'madness'. But what is consciousness anyway?
Is this what we would all see if natural selection hadn't taken its toll?

Colours are key to survival; the wrong colour, produced by our visual intake of light, could dramatically kill off all of those chosen to test dummy the current version of mankind.

I am that test dummy, 5000 years too late.

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