Solitude- Collection.

-

Contorted limbs, struggling breaths, shambling movements.

It moves in unison, yet each piece is independent.

The noises aren't legible, it's look not drawable.

It's existence is a mere stain upon all who see it.

It writhes around in its own creation of magnitude, sloshing about in its cause of absence.

Every time it is attempted to be removed, it smiles several times and disappears, already counting down the seconds for your guard to lower.

As soon as it does, it slinks back. Only this time, it hits harder and stronger than before.

It takes pleasure in the very loss and confusion it causes in each of those unfortunate enough to meet it.

All creators know it.
All creators fear it.
All those are presented with it at least once.

It's the reason you never did the task.
Or the interview.
Or the job.
Or the work.

It's called 'absence.'

And it loves those who lack motivation.