|
"And through the midnight fog, I can see the ghost of a lighthouse standing in memory of what it once was. It casts no light upon the lapping waves. As I venture out into an eternity of nothing, with a clarity of mind I am able to recall all that I have seen. My aching hands frozen by the icy mist, I am swallowed by the starless sky. I am willing to go."
Please -- The noise is getting to you, is it? The water hasn't worked in here for days. With all your screaming, your mouth must be awful dry. The rats are biting at our feet and the cold, damp nature of this place is bearing down on our sanity. I wonder sometimes, if you still recognize me. Have you forgotten who I am? Have we become warped beyond recognition? I think no matter how hard we tried, we'd never find the door. It's always so dim. I can barely see the spiders in your hair - the dirt and cobwebs on everything. Everything you touch gives you splinters. The ashes of an old photoalbum lay in the smoking fireplace. Would you let me hold your hand, stranger? I'm going to lie down on the floor now. Please remember me - no matter what happens. Your eyes are giving no answers tonight. I feel cold. Do you feel it too? I was sure there was a path around here; perhaps it was under our feet all the time. Are there spiders in the bed? I told you I love you, but you'd turned away just then and you didn't hear me. Morning may come, but I can't really say for sure. The static, white glow of the electric lights casts hard shadows. Flicker and twitch. The glare pains your already throbbing head. Noise reverberates and turns to water. I stand up to leave; we walk out into the cold. I try to tell you so much without speaking. At last it is too late and you go back inside. I am left standing alone in bleak December hopelessness.
Breathe. |