pb

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broken.

i'm alive, mostly. sometimes it's a bit hard to tell, especially upon waking in the black hours before sunrise after a bit of dreamless sleep. it seems nightmares need not wait until my blues are sealed shut with tears and disbelief.

the blessed novacaine of shock has degenerated into bleak, blunt pain and flashing images; memories and promises lost.

it's familiar, this place. it welcomes home this deluded boy with its poison embraces and chiding words that drip into my skin with burning hisses and the fetid smoke of reproach.

silly boy. come inside. you knew better. spiral down inside with us. you forgot all about us and this place...but we never, never forgot you. spiral down, this warm, dead place is waiting for you...




-pb
music: sanitarium
book: too blurred to see

"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light..."

-Byron
Darkness