Maybe...

Silence, an all pervading scary silence. A sense of estrangement that ruled his senses. An alienness towards himself. Towards his soul, his heart his mind. A confusion of identities. A realization of dichotomy. A creation of diversions. The other.
Not paranoia but a very scary fear, not schizophrenia, but on the dangerous border. He was treading the path of the ultimate destroyer. Does not mind destroy? Is not violence an act of the mind and a thought of the hands? Is not destruction a creative liberation of the past? Is the future a mundane extension of the present?

Questions?

A drop of sweat out of inaction. A word play? A mind game?

Inaction not of lack of strength, but the excess of it. Not out of lack of aim but the greatness of it. Not for the lack of reason but the existence of it

He groped in the darkness. A darkness that engulfed him within and out. A darkness he was not scared of but was beginning to seek comfort in. Darkness, the cover of anonymity. The strength of the unknown; of the unsure. A strength that would create destruction, a strength to perfect paradox. A strength to dissect further the dichotomy.

His mind ablaze with thoughts. His self burning with passion and his soul…

Soul…. Do we have a soul? A soul? A manifestation of human emotions, a tangibility of the intangible a caging of the ephemeral a constancy of the volatile. Again a perfect paradox.

His eyes tried to close. Scared to see the darkness engulfing. In fear of the blindness around. To save from the vision of the blind.

His ears closed themselves. To shut the shrill silences. To shun the noisy calm. To protect from the silence around

His thoughts cornered him. His mind defeated him. His soul finished him. His life ended him. Paradox? No Perfection.

A perfection of the unsure. A magnum opus of the uncertain. When man is defeated by his own mind in the game that he plays called Doubt.