My inner darkness

Praeludium infinitum

I have come to the same place where I've been million times before. I have sat on the same three-feet chair I've sat before and I have kept starring at the same portret, all over again, like it was my first time seeing it. The light was fading in and out, either because the electricity didn't work well or because my mind was trying to trick my visual senses. My mind couldn't bare my body sitting in the middle of an empty room, literally just staring at a portret.
Figuratly, my mind being unable of loading  the tons of sobriety that image was giving me, but in the same time,  my eyes which couldn't look anywhere else than there. It's like the reality was just a perception of our world, burning alive, but nobody being capable of seeing the flames surrounding our dying spirits. Only our faces afterwards which looked swollen and miscreated by the nature were the proof of an invisible, illusionary picture.
It wasn't just a simple potret, beautifully symmetrical sculptured in warm tones which have been shaded out in secondary and  tertiary colours. This portrait was made out of a blank painting cloth. Nothing more. But for me it was still a portrait, because I could refind multiple expressions of my own reality, without needing colours or visible lines. I was my own painter, my own colours and my own creativity. I could, nevertheless, inframe my overloaded thoughts and outframe my material existence, until there was only my body left in the room. As my nurturious reflexes were running away, I was darkened up by my own existence. By my own complex of time and potential.
Time has always been just a special creation for the human race. A creation which can hold us back from destroying. Because without time, our bodies will forever stay young, but our souls will decese and extinct, leaving a home with open door for the next guest. But  after the extinction of  our souls, there will be no one to take over our bodies. Nothing can grow back from no seed or necessary elements. Time stands for healing and growing.
But for me time is another word for soul solstice. Today the sun might go down around afternoon and the next day on a late midnight. Sometimes I have more light to read my thoughts and sometimes..... The darkness takes over my mind so fast, that there is no time left for opposing.
   I'm living in a paradox where the morbidity of living everyday the same as I lived yesterday became  an inseparable part of me. I lost the time, it's lost. Probably far away behind. The date, the years, the hours. They all represent a  part of my past. But how could you possibly have a past, without time? How could you know that the past already happened  and  it's not happening now ? Or tomorrow?
There is no yesterday, today and tomorrow. There is only a fraction of life which revolves around its own axe. Living means replaying the same sound all over again and your body's movement while listening to that sound being formed out of 2 parts: standing and sitting. The only things which keep changing are your emotions  and thoughts. But it's too late for them, because they have been incaged.
Incaged by the lose of time and control. With your control and time lost, you killled every single chance to a definal end.
Still staring at the portret, on the same chair, the same room, forever.
The prelude of an infinity!