The predawn light was burning the stars. Stars, gleaming at me within a frame formed by canyon walls. Resting in the dirt I gaze up, observing the trees as their shadowy bodies sway in the morning breeze. Tranquillity frightens me the most because peace leads to thinking and thinking steers to the prison behind my eyes. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to think. For fifty-two days I have clawed and jammed my way up these walls. My fist is a wooden club that I force into cracks. Soft and fragile hands have mutated into hard and unyielding tools. Before it happened I would have revelled in the strength. My ego used to be important but now I only care about death.
I allow my mind to wander, to let it look at the prison inside. Agonizingly
I allow my mind to wander, to let it look at the prison inside. Agonizingly