The Dark Passenger

It lies passive, waiting for opportunities when none existed...to rear its head not unlike a baby sparrow. If only it was cute like the sparrow. The exact residential place is not known... nor is its destination. It is fascinating to observe the speed at which it grows though. Like all things resilient it strikes when you least expect it. Unlike all striking things it aim is directed at itself, somehow it musters this great rage but somehow gets too engrossed within itself and self destructs. 


The more you try and control it, the more you distract it, the more you ignore it, the stronger it grows. What does it feed on? Why does it exist? What does it want? 


Give it that small ray of light and the tendrils uncurl and multiply and uncurl and multiply and uncurl and multiply and you lose track of which was the offending one. Somehow it has also grown stronger with thicker roots and stems which cut deeply and leave a scar. 


Will it bind its vines so deep that escape is impossible, will one have to find ingenious ways to channel it, will anyone be bothered enough to pull out its roots? 


Dexter Morgan, thanks for giving the name, at least one doesnt have to call it by some clinical name.