death. 5 times now I have seen this place, this dark room, this lightless room. 3 were of my own making , 2 by accident. This place is endless, boundless yet confining like a coffin. No light yet shadows dance wearingly upon the walls and around my body. Twisting vicious shadows, memories of loathing nature that still cling to make unconscious minds. Sounveniers of a life lived for the past, there to forever remind me of my own short comings. This dark place, is hell or just the mind's construct I built for myself, perhaps they are one in the same. Moments seem like years, years spread out before me, the path long the way before me shrouded. Slowly the clock begins to move, the light comes in wavering streams. Reality comes full force like having a shroud pulled from my head. Surviving yet again but alittle less of my conscious here. I wonder how many times I can survive this place and return. What happens when the dream is more real then the waking world?
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