pissy buckets of shitty poetry

yo

Shadows settled upon me as night descended slowly on my mind, clouding it with voices and their spoken nonsense, incomprehensible muttering.
The unknown utterings pushed me further into oblivion, and all I could feel was mad curiosity with a hint of fear standing behind it. My eyes, closed and sealed in eternal darkness, let my body wander the depths of the oily, dense blackness, if even without moving. As my head fell back slowly, like the one of a dead body floating on the water a moment ago and going now under the surface, I felt myself starting to lose grip on my physical form. I was becoming a wave, the spoken form of a thought, light fending through the air or perhaps simple consciousness taking over. As time passed by, I vibrated more and more; even if sleeping- no, half sleeping - my body felt everything and my mind reacted to it. At times I would try to gain back control on my body, but I couldn't move. Not a finger. I could only vibrate in nonexistent realms, ignorant as I am, unable to see what's behind. Left with clear memory of what happened, I started dreaming of labyrinths of old, stone and columns holding a structure that's underground. I moved and wandered every corner of the room I found myself in, until I saw a ladder and thought better of using it: steps could be heard, some voices as well, and basing my deduction on the small piece of information I had, I understood there were two people walking the cobblestone above me.
Then the dream drifted off to something else entirely, dark as it was before, but outside, in the open. My garden at night, the moon governing the sky, washing me in its pale words.
Everything stopped. My eyes snapped open and my previous dimension welcomed me with the light of day and dust floating. For a while, not a sound could be heard, and the last vibration left my fingers immediately. I got up and collected my things, only to wonder how much exactly I could discover about myself.