From The Waning:
“This is Your world I live in. The thin gauge of the cage bars pressing into my thighs, a constant pressure. The less than ambient temperature in the room, always keeping my hair follicles at attention. The darkness split only by that light occasionally under the door, just enough for my pupils to stretch into sight. The proportions of my space to my ever-withering size. All carefully crafted in Your meticulous fantasies that I strive to fulfill daily.
I try not to think in these black lulls. I try not to let that raging sea of thoughts, those tumultuous emotions of my old self rise up in me. She is always
there, menacing right beneath the surface, threatening to bring back all that suffering. Her delusions and fantasies and desires that only promise to rip my pathetic heart still beating and bleeding from my now frail chest.
Sleep, rest, wait. Wait for You. I force my shallow breathing to blank my mind, empty my head. No thought of where I am, where I once thought I should be, where You are, how my body feels. I insist on only hearing my contracted world.
Drip, drip, drip.
Like the quiet thump, thump, thump dying in my chest.”
Artwork by the talented Phillip Beachler, the Graphics Smith.