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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #2250854
Another work from the void.
Creaking floorboards the perpetual reminder the haunting

It brings me pain to awake in the garden, covered with mulch and dew

When I go there, the carpet is suddenly cartoonish purple clouds enrobing my feet, guiding me to my destination - the depth of the forest.

Tentacles perching pearls, caressing my legs as I struggle through the thick miasma engulfing me - digesting slowly.

Where do I go? Where I was before I was at all -an aching oocyte inside my mother, burning hydrogen of the Red Dwarf, hollow soundlessness of space

I am not here, I never have been - the subconscious erects me to bring me home, like a cordyceps riddled ant body, I am the shell of my mind - the lizard who once was.

I dread the opening of my eyes - I belong in the dark - I belong on the precipice of God; Odin's hot breath down my neck; Poseidon swallowing me whole with his gaping blue maw, seaweed dangling from the fangs.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2250854-Somnambulist-Poetics