Labyrinth

Sometimes the days seem to stretch on forever. I think I remember times that were better – but do I? As my soul collapses inward I ponder ever seeing a brighter side. Of course the grass looks greener on the other side. I might remember what it tasted like if only I could halt the frantic consumption of ash. While it’s heavier, somehow I think it’s just not filling that void there.

How long can you lie before that lie becomes truth? I’m gagging on those ashes again, but it’ll wash down with another handful. If mirrors are gateways, what’s there for you if all you see is nothing? I crawled inside the other day, only to find decay. And the comfort that the frigid brings. The tightening ache in my chest clutches harder each passing day – I might say it’s my heart breaking if I hadn’t forgotten what that meant long ago – and I fight to breathe through it. What happens when I’m too tired for it?

When I started at the beginning of this I knew where I was going… Plush labyrinth turned harsh maze.

was that the Minotaur?

I’ve run out of options and now I can’t’ help but run on. Before I can realize I have fallen down I’m up and running again. I’m chocking and coughing in a strange fit as water blurs my vision is this what crying’s like? but the drive is strong as I stumble onward. Drive rooted so deep I don’t even think to question, just moving.

Motion! Is that the answer?

The pounding of my footsteps is my only memory.

What am I running from?

A thought so quick I’ve lost it before I can conceive its idea.

There was a destination once I think and I try to awaken myself to it. The flooding sensation only causes my vision to lapse into bright colors and vague shapes. Movement is default. The acid, what was once blood, in my veins burns and stimulates kinesis. Prone to it, I can’t remember sleeping, only myriads of dead ends and paths traveled. As my eyes come into focus I see the path laid out before me. Comfort in continual motion, pushed forward.

That sound again; strange and scratchy, yet constant as my pace, shuffles. Thick and lush, no option available and backward is the way forward. Passing a path long since traveled, a figure glimpsed. Insignificant to the drive. The need to finish this. To find the end. If only she could remember the reasoning for starting to begin with was the figure she’s running from.

Sensation of time passing is an eerie one, but it crawls along my spine familiar as the pace I’m keeping ever onward in vein and the scratching shuffle that surrounds. Long since the elusive figure which haunts the hallows of this place as surely as I do. Pangs of something wrench as the silhouette slides across the paths of my thoughts and the drive is harder as is the ache crushing down.

The world is bright where the black reigned moments ago. Harsh the drag of air inward, wracked in torment. The slow stumble upward widens the scene, brightly scarlet thickly slick, pouring freshly from some gaping wound in this skull. Trembling and ungainly I surge forward.

What does it matter if I die here? There is only the answer. That strange secret at the end of this is my salvation or undoing and I must press on. I am not I. all that’s left is this shell

I’ve passed another dead end. I am lost and I just keeping running farther into it. Helpless to the need of something I cannot remember. And the dream of it is the drive, the hope behind the dream giving endless endurance.

And in the end all I will have achieved is the desolation of this that was once my soul.

I am at ease.

secretly she died long ago

murdered my her reason