the air is slightly stale, and I am surprised I do not grimace to it. at least the floor is not very cold and I wonder at its rough comfort. the smell of leather will be my companion tonight for it is from the one solid thing I own here.
the yearning has not subsided, in fact, it is more intense now. I choke at the consequent emotion, and anger rises up my throat and I wonder if tears would help. I know they will not come to me, they have not for a long while. I blink at the darkness, willing my eyes to glue shut and for a second I muse at the curiosity of a certain mystery.... at which point my mind screams for light, but in a hushed voice, barely audible from even within me. the thirst for it is a contradictory need, as I yearn for this stifling darkness to swallow me.
the leg jerks at a touch, just as virtual grace steals me away into the summer heat, into square pavements bustling, breathing and alive... they will not come to me, and I shut my eyes so tight it hurts. a different breeze wafts in, carrying with it evidence of a basic human nature. I welcome its stinging distraction from my chainless shackles. my mind slowly lets go of its cyclic thoughts, a frustrating prison of tight unyielding polythene skin. I claw at it as it chokes me, tightens all around me, denying me air.
they will not come to me, I must be strong, the thread holding me is unraveling. is this the road to insanity? it cannot be...
they will not come to me. there is no shame to it. but still, they deny me momentary solace. should I turn to look? the glitter might be my window to mental freedom, it is light within darkness. but what is a drop of water upon perched lips, if the whole draught will not be mine.
they will not come to me, and another light steals me from within the darkness, though only for a short long while.
the yearning has not subsided, in fact, it is more intense now. I choke at the consequent emotion, and anger rises up my throat and I wonder if tears would help. I know they will not come to me, they have not for a long while. I blink at the darkness, willing my eyes to glue shut and for a second I muse at the curiosity of a certain mystery.... at which point my mind screams for light, but in a hushed voice, barely audible from even within me. the thirst for it is a contradictory need, as I yearn for this stifling darkness to swallow me.
the leg jerks at a touch, just as virtual grace steals me away into the summer heat, into square pavements bustling, breathing and alive... they will not come to me, and I shut my eyes so tight it hurts. a different breeze wafts in, carrying with it evidence of a basic human nature. I welcome its stinging distraction from my chainless shackles. my mind slowly lets go of its cyclic thoughts, a frustrating prison of tight unyielding polythene skin. I claw at it as it chokes me, tightens all around me, denying me air.
they will not come to me, I must be strong, the thread holding me is unraveling. is this the road to insanity? it cannot be...
they will not come to me. there is no shame to it. but still, they deny me momentary solace. should I turn to look? the glitter might be my window to mental freedom, it is light within darkness. but what is a drop of water upon perched lips, if the whole draught will not be mine.
they will not come to me, and another light steals me from within the darkness, though only for a short long while.
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