pandemonium † muke [en-slow updates]

6 (minutes)

I've killed my last chance to remember who he was because I've lost myself in my thoughts.

Repetitive.

Repetitive.

And they don't take me anywhere. Sometimes I ask myself how many times is possible losing myself in my mind's maze when I have nothing left to to. How many times is possible to dive into myself.

But there's a problem: I don't know who I am. Not even a name. Not even my eyes' colour. Not even my hair's colour.

That's weird. If I am trapped here -in this place, in my mind, whatever- for so long as I think I am, my hair should have grown up. But it still have the lenght I remember.

I remember.

No, I don't remember.

Once -it could have been yesterday or half a century ago- I tried to count how many times I've had the feeling of waking up, in order to set a relation of time. I blew a piece of glass and I traced four lines cut by one. I added the 5 times I woke up scared -without actually sleeping.

But it faded away.

I've tried to scratch the walls. But I didn't have nails. I've tried.

I've tried.

I've tried so many things.

I have. 

I have had a past.

I have a past.

It's hard to know how many minutes, seconds, milliseconds or hours have passed when everything around you is a single frosted glass, forbidding you to watch beyond.

Because there is a beyond, like there is a heaven or like there is a hell.

Sometimes, with the low light coming from the wall, I find myself thinking if I'm in heaven. I mean is the only logical reason to this feeling of forgetfulness. This feeling of judgment.

If I am there then I should be a ghost and I should be able to go through the walls. But I am still here. Locked up in the non-existent silence. Locked up in that Pandora's box.

Cloistered.

Looking to the walls.

Sometimes mumbling a song about a judge.

About not knowing if I'm talking about me or if I'm talking about the devil.

Oh, the evil. The demons.

Wide awake or dreaming, they're always there.

Wide awake or dreaming, they're always you.

Awakened by impulses.

Awakened by incentives.

Awakened by teasing.

I have had a past.

I have a past.

I have been teased.

It's about a death story.

It's about a death, love and teasing story.

And death.

For him.