Mangled linens twisted round me
as if hands, I FEEL HANDS upon my flesh.
Rippled edges of the world before me,
why can’t I see you…see clearly that
which you dangle before my eyes?
Running down this unfamiliar corridor
and yet I know now what it is I search.
Open door, silent strangled screaming
and somehow I know I’m not here.
I cry out your name, cry out to anyone
and yet I know that no one can come.
Terror, unbecoming, no sound escapes.
Peeking beyond the edge of the curtain...
falling off the ledge of existence and
know, in landing, I’ll never wake from this.
Membrane cushion, I sink through skin
into the grey beyond, and deeper down,
down, down, into the pit...tunnel vision.
I see dawn approaching and I wander forth
in search of comfort, security it would offer.
Centre of the clouds, I’ve wandered into
these heavens, and beyond lay darkness.
Pool of chaos, engulfing me, erasing me,
yet remains my inward consciousness.
Single gossamer thread remains between.
I am of this, this thickened intangibility.
I am not of this, having left behind my skin.
The vehicle of my existence knows not
what horrors remain inside that vortex.
That coiling ribbon, slender line between
the lucid and those detachably deranged.
I walk among two fields of vision, pulled
and pushed by each, and each again; again.
If closed these portals lead to everywhere,
and when open they lead only here…to this.
I must choose which path, and choosing end.
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