"I didn't dream well that night but oh how wish I hadn't woken"
I don't ever retain what I dream, which is no weirder than normally. Yet, this time I recall it all for it haunts me, it beckons me it slashes at my names like a razor to my skin. It never stops, never ending the "thoughts" the "memories" the "past". No, "my past" I just can't take it, its suffocating me as I try to breath while I drown. It has no purpose it tells me. It has no remorse, I brought this all on myself. Yet I refuse to believe.
I'm not afraid of death, only of how he may come. Be it swinging or sinking, these dreams frighten me. The harsh colors and dark lit undertones. The surrealism is uncanny at best. As I'm forced to hold my eyes open, as I'm forced to relive each dying moment. The death of crescent, the death of sis. My parents leaving. The death of sage, it's all to much for one girl to handle.
As I fight and wrestle with these demons they only gang up on me. There weight is to much, the claws sink into me only to have never sunk at all. The blame me for me being weak, and foolish and that my death should be looked forward to instead of shunned. I just want to wake up yet my screams go unheard. I open a mouth with no tongue, the air is damp and cold.
The blood of who's I can't seem to recall floats aimlessly in the space. My hands are a mess, and stains run down my shirt drenching my skirt a crimson red. My nails are mangled as my hair is rats near. I'm standing a pool of blood from which is blacker than tar. It clings to me dragging me down reminding me of who was killed inside my dreams. Why Ricky, why must you destroy all that I love dear.
But yet the pain doesn't stop there, I walk down hallways that never end. My hands feel the scars of words and insults alike etched into the wall of my mind by my own accord. I draw my blade along the rocky ground, it only grew heavy as I press on into the abyss.
These dreams never end but yet I never want to wake...for atleast here I know things can't get worst.
YOU ARE READING
Mental Mentality of my Prescription
Genç KurguSequel to Transcription of my Prescription Why are you still here? What's your purpose? Why do you even breathe? These are the questions that plague and pollute my never quite sound mind. My name is Snow, Yes, just Snow. Don't ask about my past, do...
