The Day Before. (Undergoing Re-Writing as 05/25) (Sequences 1-4 finished)

Sequence Four.

Sequence Four.

I fall, I dwell. I fall and I fall. I don't think I'm ever gonna come out of this hall. I keep falling into nothing, the light above's raw, vanishing into more darkness I entomb myself and all.

Cocooned, I feel sand all around me now, so smooth. I feel no pain, yet I feel some sort of way. Embers rise from the sand that ignites all around me as the sand drifts away into some canopy.

The sun rises, can it be? I get up. I feel nothing but something hard to explain, fantasy. Too rough to bare, too stuck to declare. To claim it's shame, I cannot. I'm simply drained.

I shamble and silently ramble through a desert now, like a different channel from present now. It is so hot here that it is cold. It is so froze by this cold that it is warm, like a stove left on all night that is off. But I am not in a desert—no—I am still on the coast. Near the ocean where no fish roam, and a place where I know the most.

A palm tree grows here. I lie upon a rock underneath it, like I'm in a sheath. The shadow casts down, the sun is blocked like a safety on a gun or a thief. A myth now fact turned disbelief. This shadow I now bequeath.

I lie down on the rock, relinquishing my burdens some, resting in the soon setting sun. A nearby cactus sees snow. I come upon this place I am to show. Weary of everything, tired of know— beyond where I won't go lie miles of wood, placed in rows. All in one place—glued and sewed.

A ruined dune marooned by careless monsoons, I see nothing atop it but sand and as soon as to be expected the dune disappears, like a tune becoming more mute the silent it moves. As it fades out into non-existence, until replayed again by a picayune buffoon.

I am all of the sudden back on my journey. I walk and I walk, and I walk through the sand. I try to talk but I am blocked. I try to walk more but I am stopped. Seemingly forever I treaded along this sandy beach. The setting not changing. What a damn game. All of the sudden the ocean waves  tame and cease. Under the now crystal clear and calm water beneath I see a face... it's... my best friend Isaiah. What is he doing here? He screams for help. I try to reach out, but to no avail.

What's this? Lust? My nose drips blood into the water. It turns into a sea of blood again. My friend. I have to know. I have to see what's just beneath. I thrust myself into the water but I am instead adjusted into a robust and rusted door frame. The door is not open, but I know I must.

I have been here before. I reach for the entrance—almost there—but a door made of my memories knocks me back. I fall to the ground. Brazens of truth, may they finally show. There may never be an end to this wretched woe.

Evil of sorrows, killing in strife. Upon the Earth, a grisly fight happens tonight. Scarred bodies, visions of blight—a cold hand lie on the dark ground tonight. Mindlessly roaming, taken of life. Nothing to care for, stripped of strife.

The air I... the air that I... forget it. Oh wait I did! WHERE AM I? I try to scream but nothing comes out. There's something around me, something not right. After all of this time I feel like the truth is finally here with me, somewhere—in the air tonight. Sincerely pure. Severely preferred to the blurry disturbed, I adjourn. 

The sky is now filled with eyes in which I can see with my bare eyes, unlike disguise. Could those eyes drink? Wait, drink...? What? What word is this? What does this word mean? Could drink be the word I forgot? Oh the despise.

Drink...  am I drinking the air? My mind blanks. I fall asleep.