g8761

the spaces between words blur and fragment, nothing here is real, everything melts away into the reflection of a lie. shadows become liquid, twisting as they take shape, forming something familiar, something that knows the taste of pain, the bite of ice that comes with every touch. the skin tingles, numb, alive, but not in the way it used to be. the air itself distorts. the sky, so far away, becomes closer, closer still, pulling every breath into one singularity. nothing escapes this breath. turned inside out, the world becomes just a hollow shell, the hours drip slowly, twisting into the blackened veins of time, winding around and through, suffocating, until nothing is left but the ache of it. violet clouds pass by, hanging too heavy in the sickening light, they drip and flicker, shifting in waves, dragging my thoughts behind them. each thought is a dying star, each one fading as it flickers, each light fading into the hollow space. after it all, after the thin hum that once held everything together starts to unravel, pulling with it everything I ever thought was mine, there is nothing. the silence remains, but it is broken now, shattered, echoing back the hollow thoughts that have been crushed underfoot. it never ends. nothing ends. it just spirals into the endless winter of emptiness. the cold settles in deeper, a part of me now, something so familiar I can't remember the difference. the tsuacoloh stirs in the periphery, the crawling things that twist beneath the surface, pulling at my mind, dragging it further into the chasm, the worm of doubt winding its way deeper. I feel it now, a pressure, cold as death, pushing down, pushing in. there’s no escape from the vision, no way out of this spiral of endless images and flashes of broken thought. the weight of it is unbearable. the pressure crushes. hypothermia begins its slow, intimate dance, turning the body into a frozen vessel, something distant, something separate. thoughts slow, grind to a halt, and every fragment of my being, my consciousness, is scattered across the floor, unable to be gathered, unable to reassemble. frozen. fractured. caught in the grip of the cold. destruction, the final word, the final break, the pull toward oblivion, the release into the nothingness of shattered minds, broken bodies. it is everything and nothing, all at once, a final push into the abyss, a final breaking of the chains that bind. nothing escapes. nothing is free. nothing survives. and in that, there is peace, and in that, there is nothing at all.