Monday, September 19, 2011


It's cold.

There is no wind, no breeze and everything stands still. I rub my hands together desperately, sparking something as of yet unintelligible. As I shrink into my long coat, my eyes dart from side to side of this desolate highway. Nothing for miles. Not as far as the eye can see. The trees are bare. The grass has long since died. My eyes dart up. Where is the light? It's neither bright nor dark. It's eventide, but the source eludes my wary mind. The sun has disappeared, though not a cloud lies in his stead. The moon is gone, her starry children orphaned and hidden. I am alone.

Where am I going? I don't know. Just keep moving forward, I guess. Some small part of me remembers something. Something vague. Something blurry. A sign? I strain my eyes, squinting to see something I know isn't there. Where is it?


My mind is my own, but my body isn't. It shakes and convulses, dancing to a sick, twisted and unnatural tune that nobody can hear. I'm spinning out of control. What is this? But before I can answer, before anyone can answer, I go limp and fall to my knees. Head bowed, I keep my eyes closed shut. Where can I go?

The road before me melts. It's dulled white lanes sink into the black pavement - now grey. No feeling. No emotion. Nothing. I pick myself up slowly, getting to my feet only to feel something deep, dark and dank. My heart seeping through the soles of my shoes. Lost. I try to fight it. I desperately grapple with such intense gravity, but it is a losing battle. The more I fight, the less I feel. The more I win, the weaker I grow. It's gone.

I feel rain. But it isn't rain. The sky isn't grey. Isn't blue. Isn't black. Isn't anything. Where is the sky? What it might have been, now drips from above - like paint on a canvas. It's falling apart. All of it.

Why do I bother? My wall of my strength is torn down, ripped asunder by catapults unseen. I crumble once again. I feel nothing. See nothing. Hear nothing. Deaf, dumb and mute - this place is empty and full. Standing and sitting between nowhere and everywhere, it cries silence and reaches without limbs. I cannot define what I cannot sense. It isn't gloom. It doesn't gleam. I feel something tugging at my sleeves, my very essence. It warns me. What is it? What is this feeling of utter inability, helplessness, impotence? It stifles my mind's screams and I come face to face with it's blank, ever-changing face: Dread.

If only I knew what this place was. If only I remembered. If only.


But I can't sit still and standing. I can't go screaming quietly into that dark day. I remember that I cannot see, my eyes useless. But I feel. Not with my hands, my skin - but with my mind. I feel this place around me. I feel it.

I forget the cold, burning pavement beneath my legs, it's jarring teeth that bit through my skin. I forget the chilling warmth that cleaved my soul. I forget the soft sky that dropped to earth. Past. I've left it behind.

I rise into the air. Between earth and sky. Between hell and heaven. Balance. I make my claim - It's mine. This idea is mine. It circles around me, and I around it. Leaving this body behind, I merge with the idea. We are one.

This place of thoughts, without feeling, had drained me. It draws us all. But we persevere. We persist. We prevail. As I leave the fluid of my mind, I remember my purpose; the goal. I remember the idea I now hold close. In this promised nowhere-land, beneath it's hard, inconsistent soil - it holds riches beyond your imagination. You need only look. I sit staring at this blank sheet, and gently put ink to paper.

It's cold.


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