written on November 23rd, 2023 (11/23/23)
In a wild, manic, outrageous attempt at escape,
I take to the forest,
and envelop myself in the foliage.
I'll wrap twisting vines into my hair,
and bury my legs underneath the roots.
I'll let leaves fall and disguise my torso, while my face gets covered
under the dirt and moss.
And once the thorns from the roses
cutting off circulation to my wrists
pierce my skin,
I'll become one with this place.
And as soon as that happens,
A single helpless cry will ring out to the unforgiving greenery of the forest.
written on May 28th, 2024 (5/28/24)
The air is just thin enough to make me conscious of my breathing
Stars wrap around my torso and moon dust settles on my skin
A thin line of blinding light lies just out of reach, at the end of the cosmos
Time and Light travel differently here, it’s possible the gateway isn’t too far away
And yet I lay floating silently in the endless expanse,
Eyes shifting from one blurry mass to another
Specks of color flee my line of sight as soon as I direct my gaze to them
Perhaps if they weren't so shy, I could reach out and hold one
It’s oddly peaceful here.
written on September 20th, 2024 (09/20/24)
I’m stuck here.
The metal beneath me carves deep into my flesh
The lights above me assault my senses and render any thinking obsolete
The walls surrounding me warp and bend in sync with the distortion of my own mind
And I am stuck here.
Five weeks and five days, Forty days. Almost six weeks. In two days, it will be six weeks.
Three weeks since I have eaten. Two weeks and one day since I realized I did not need to.
One week and two days until it will end. That is what they told me, five weeks and five days ago.
I am waiting here.
And I am stuck here.
You’d expect the lights to flicker.
You’d expect the lightbulbs to need changing.
You’d expect some kind of maintenance work to be done
After being in here for five weeks and five days,
Forty days.
But that’s what you expect, not what I expect.
Not anymore.
You lose sight of expectation and logic when you’re stuck here.
In a place like this.
Forty days. Five weeks and five days. I am stuck here. I have been stuck here.
And I will be stuck here until they decide to kill me, out of boredom. Not mercy.
They don’t have mercy.
If they did,
I wouldn’t be stuck here.
written on November 12th, 2024 (11/12/24)
I think I am floating. I’m not too sure.
I feel as if I’m floating, but then again...
I’ve never floated before; how would I know what it feels like?
At least, I think I’ve never floated? Maybe I have? Maybe I’ve always been stranded in midair?
Well, I wouldn’t say I’m ‘stranded’, that implies I should be upset about it.
I’m not upset.
Should I be? Would anyone else?
I don’t think there’s wind, either. That’s odd. This seems like somewhere you’d find wind.
Do people normally float? Is this how the world works?
I slowly move my head in all directions;
I don’t think there’s anyone here with me.
Or maybe I’m in a crowd of people right now, and I just can’t see them?
Surely there’s an explanation for why I’m floating.
Maybe.
I still don’t know if I’m actually floating.
I could just be imagining it all, somehow.
I feel as if this isn’t how it should be. But I’ve never asked.
Is there anyone to ask? If there are people, they aren’t visible.
I can’t recall if I used to be on solid ground.
Does solid ground exist here?
I wonder what exists here, and what I’ve made up.