Inside

Curling round and round in my depths, making me cringe and wither up into a ball on a small sofa in a dark corner of a quite room in which I am doomed to spend my quiet eternity all alone...
I hear rustling of paper and raise my head to see that the source of my intrusion is nothing more than another figment of my imagination.
Quietly still on the dirty wood floor I see only a pre-packed bag who's destination has found itself no further than the corner it was packed in.
Nothing here, nothing there,,, open the door if I could find the desire to put my feet on the floor and actually take the steps,,, find the energy to put my hand out to turn the door handle... for what? To look outside of into a world full of everything I want to see, to do , to smell, to touch, to fall into and to... love... yet only to never be able to step outside.
Why torture myself intentionally that way?
Lying here on the musty smell of forgotten forgots, I smell the smell of red everytime my mind starts to wander about the wondering again and again... I close the magick window in my mind to keep myself from remembering memories that were never there... the red, the dark so beautiful liquid red, burns my soul and is raging violently inside my quiet skin to explode and give me... release.... that passionate angry untamed screaming loss of all control is now quietly lying as lost and desolate in this dark four walled prison as the body that once allowed it's release.
The packed bag sitting there mocking me in the reminding tone of how I had the chance then, yesterday and today to take that first step of that magnificent journey I have already taken once before and ever since been lost.