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Rated: E · Prose · Death · #1389682
Maybe, it will
It was as if I had forgotten everything until that point. That instant of recognition when one can feel themselves breathe while they think. A rhythm of function or purpose to sustain a system.
My body felt fleeting and the experience seemed the only thing palpable. There was no distinguishing the end of my nose from the air I was breathing.
I found myself drowning.
I was thinking so hard about breathing It was becoming an active decision sans passivity.
Wait, was it passive?
Was this decision one of freewill?
How am I to declare what was chosen by me and what was not?
That door was what I saw.
Was it what I wanted to see?
Or was it what I needed to see?
Some end that forgot about its own accord.
Beyond my mind floating in the ether of dream
I was observing.
Observing with a limited ability to participate
As my hands reached out for the knob, I choked for an instant. I knew there was no chance to turn, ready as I would ever be for that door.
The Door opened and a torrent of strange water rushed into the room.
It had the beauty of snows gone warm from some other place
The oak struck my head, or what I thought was my head. I remember feeling an imbalance, a lapse in equilibrium that sucked everything from my hope. But only for a moment.
I landed on some boundary between my body and the outside world and choked on the Outside.
The second choke was an explosion of situation, I sensory orgasm I had under appreciated for so long.
Laying on my edges in piss stained pants and shit-filled underwear I looked above the door.
An exit sign shining with the veracity of the magic that is light met my minds eye.
I knew this sign was only sign, but for the first of times I realized it was an animate object pulsating with life. Empty with a vacant fullness.
I knew I must cross a threshold, one of many.
And We can so I did.
The freshest feeling
© Copyright 2008 George Curious (georgecurious at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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