autopilot write

She thought she knew where she was going so she began to run. She ran as fast and as far as she could towards the setting sun. Blood red and orange rays slice through a sky they stung her eyes and face. She heard a song, a melody of chaos untrapped and poetential unravelled. The hot coals beneath her burned the fire that pushed her heels to run faster, jumping with each note, inspired, trying to catch that setting sun. I know of darkness. I know that if it catches you it will consume you. It will start with your habits, and your mind- unnaffected. And when you stop to catch you’re breath that is when it catches you unaware, its cruel claws will grip the flesh of your mind and let it rip, pulling it apart from the hinges of your skull. The pain- unbearable and nothing- the invisible you is screaming in a madness that only the maddest acknowledge. and now that darkness- it is faster than me. I feel its coldness on my heels, its sharp teeth sinking in like ebony needles piercing through the soles-souls- of my feet. It is death, already pulling me into a grave. It is life, already laughing at everything I could have been. It is that potential me of a past other-choice, already a decayed corpse, sometimes stealing glances at this present me and saying- you aren’t that bad- considering. Considering the destruction you are capable of- it could have been much worse. It could have been much better, but that is life. and this is now, what can you do? I’ve lost this plot, the song on repeat and all I want to do is type but not think, typing thoughtless letting words be words and flow onto this space and become meaning.

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