The Darkness

Imagine.
Close your eyes and imagine.
Anything
Everything
Just dream.
Sit there for a moment in the darkness.
Let it overwhelm you;
Feel the coldness
the inkiness
the nothingness
Surround you.

Let the murky emptiness pour through you
and spread in all directions
snaking from your mind
To all the shadowy corners of your body and soul.
Feel the iciness, the nullity
whoosh through you,
Its tentacles of ice suffocating you.
Just relax, melt into your chair,
become the darkness, the dusky void, the oblivion.

Blend into the swirling, billowy blackness
wherever you may be.
Sink into the background,
become one with the world’s outskirts.
Let the darkness course through your veins
feel it surge forward, slowly and methodically
blackening your entire existence.

Hear the chattering voices and outside noises fade
as if muted by an unseen control.
Let the feeling of the sturdy chair beneath you,
the solid, reassuring feel of the ground under your feet
slip away.
Until it is just you.
You and the darkness.

Try to feel the world sliding away from you
and how its solid familiarity is slipping like water
through your fingertips, uncontrollable
but it is impossible.
Because, other than you, everything is still.
It is all in your mind.
It’s out of your control now.
The ominous feeling of desperation, of distress, of hopelessness
begins to edge its way in.
You can try to fend it off, but it’s patient.
No need to worry.
It will come.

Your breaths are shorter now, rushed.
Your thoughts are racing.
Your limbs are trying to thrash
but they are bound motionless by the darkness.
You feel yourself disappearing more and more
as each particle of your being is swallowed.
You struggle to open your eyes
but the blackness has reached them too.
Your body won’t function, your eyes won’t see.
It’s just your thoughts left.

Running

babbling

wailing.

You are screaming, but no sound emerges.
You are searching, but your eyes are visionless.
You are exhausted, but your body remains a statue.
You are weeping, but your cheeks are bare of marks.
You are in agony, but your body and soul remain intact.
You are almost gone, but nothing is missing.
You should be fine, except you’re not.

Everything is overtaken by the blackness now,
completely darkened, smothered.
Except your mind.
But now the darkness returns.
To your mind, its creator.
Slowly, it spreads through your brain.
You try to put up walls and defend yourself
from the seeking tentacles, but it’s futile.
Your thoughts are muddled, your ideas suffocated, your pleas enveloped.
A last cry is made, but is quickly swallowed.
The darkness stops, taunting, tendrils outstretched.
The sole uncovered place in your mind weeps, begs, promises.
“Wait, wait, wait…”
But it, too, is then gone.

Like Atlas, an unbearable weight was given to you
Except instead of the mere world, it was your life,
your last chance to survive.
But unlike him, you failed to succeed
to struggle with the burden forever.
Your fight was lost.

You are nothing now.
Just an empty body, overtaken by the blackness
the darkness
the nothingness.
You went too far and now it is too late.
There is no returning.
You can just sit there.
Waiting.
For nothing.
Just there.

Because you created the darkness.
For a moment, you chose to become the darkness.
And then the darkness became you.