Sometimes I feel like a zombie, aimlessly wandering through the night.
Darkness falls upon me as if it were blankets of dynamite. Heavy, heavy danger yet familiar, comforting unease. A loneliness I long for in the wake of my reprieve. I stare ahead at the nothingness that I begrudgingly drift towards. Quietude surrounds my struggling thoughts that are whisked away, ignored. Ticking hands sweep at absent time, my heart rate dangerously slows. All the while trapped within a shell, empty despite my lying soul. A voice attacks my inner ear, calling my name with concern. "Are you okay?" They ask, disturbed but trusting they will be consoled. What happens next? Wouldn't you like to know. And me? Well, so would I. But too little left to care or remember what words I used to lie. Are you that way, cold and hollow, ever trapped and calm? Dare I say at peace within oneself, yet fearful of being stuck? Stuck in this life, this void, this emptiness. Nothing no longer felt. No matter the effort you muster to escape, those are the cards you have been dealt. And although you feel like your glued to one spot, those hands of strife keep ticking. Sweeping at hours, minutes, and seconds - time you could have spent living. Because here I sit - still and unmoving like a zombie passing through the night. My flesh not rotting, myself still human, but a corpse undead am I.
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AshleyTo learn more about the author, click here. Archives
January 2021
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