lately i've been fighting chemical maelstroms and unseasonable weather. my footsteps are electromagnetically sucked in backwards, huge vacuums are swallowing my words and the few fingerprints i've left on other hands seem to have diffused in blank air. there's a widening nothingness imposing its shadow on me - little by little, my lines are erased from people's minds, making room for brighter faces and jauntier voice tones. i feel my name is being impaired to minimal abreviations that might no longer occur in the alphabet. i may not even be present in photographs - i prick my fingers to make sure they're still there.
years ago, when voices became too coarse and shades too dreary, i used to close my eyes and submerge to my endless chambers, which i had minutely built and embelished inside me. there i could go any size and shape i wanted, swiftly dismiss notions like space and time, linger through infinite orchestras and fall asleep under dainty gleams. and i couldn't care less about eating or talking.
but lately i return just to find the walls barren and decaying, some muddy grey, others sickly white, others wearingly crespuscular. there're sharp glass pieces split all over the boards and the corridors are filled with horrid laughters, sneering marauders and wrinkled hands that touch you and decay. i run like mad then stop in some blank corner just to feel the floor shuddering under my feet. heavy arms are crushing my shoulders and i turn around just to meet that same nothingness, who's pierced through my bones and locked herself inside me. she trots through every inch of my limbs, she sneers at me from corners and shuts my doors with loud slams. and she says she's in love with me like no other. she whispers she's never insidious or forgetful. 'there's no more outside or inside now, dear'. she wants to take me to the third door and with each morning she pulls harder.