Author: LabyrinthFlux

-How time goes by and leaves, us here with faded memories, a scent that does not easily disappear, all the while the sun continues, traveling down, burrowing itself behind the fallen clouds, leaving behind your wrinkled brow, was it then, indecision, that makes you think back now. The missteps taken in the dusk of day, and how so slowly, in the dying light, you watched the spark of possibility fade away even as your throat choked, longing to cry out, and you swallowed hard, dry -the salty mixture, cascading on your lips, watching the world change through blurry eyes. Even […]

-Under the moonlight-spilling into the room through thin curtains-under the thin brown blanket, under the white sheets, the body breathes heavily. There is no twitching of the hand, of the fingers, no strain on the muscle to hold the arm’s bone. There is a movement, not readily visible, not disturbing. A quick vibration, lifting but not opening, the eyelids. There is a silence, unquieted, only momentarily, with each quick exhalation after a long stream of breath, inhaled, swallowed, consumed. Silence, in the dark hour. The moonlight trapped behind the clouds of dusk. The room, quiet, still, empty, but for the […]

-The corridors continue, going nowhere. The body is wheeled through and its eyes, in its laconically motionless head, scan the crevices of the space, the walls, the forms of the people walking by in white robes and blue scrubs. It searches, as it can, slowly, for something like the orderly, something which represents the familiar, something which soothes, but there is nothing. Nothing more than the movement forward, which while still new, is the most familiar thing in the body’s experience, since waking. It is not recognized by the body, but it beckons back to the body’s previous awareness before […]

-Dilated eyes register the day, sunlight spilling, filling the room. A white room. There is a sense it is different, but this does not completely register. The body, its up, a clear tube is attached to its arm, a red plasma flows upward. Eyes freeze on the tube, on the red, on the flowing; then make their way to the distracted face of the nurse, as she finishes, packs up, smiles and walks away. A sensation runs along the body’s throat, but it remains silent. It’s eyes adjusting, pupils vibrate before everything becomes clear. The body rests in the white […]

-A cry in the dark, a whisper, it’s like hope sometimes. It’s vibrations are felt, the rushing of articulation, a waiting, expectancy, as sound is cut by the cold wind. A desperate exhalation, syllables formed and muted slowly fading, scattered, scrambling in the dark howling; and the quick flash of a smile, of hope, is shattered. Light falls and evaporates, extinguished from expectant eyes. No tear fall, just the fallen crown, as the bottom drops out.

-The scent awakens me, even as I sleep. I am no more aware than when I dream. It calls to me, though I am deaf. I want to follow even in my blindness. It is not a howl, like the cold night’s air; it is not a harmony, like the Sirens’ song. It is not need though it be dire. I do not rise, though I do not sleep. I simply sigh, as I give way.

-Inert. The body, the system, lies motionless, no movement except for the swelling under the frame, raising the flesh, a steady filling and emptying of the sacs, still fed by artificial airways. Eyelids shut, closed, not tight not pressed, but without so much as a quiver. There is, the almost imperceptible pulsing of the body; valves now fully functioning, ushering plasma to the chambers that regulate the system, the body. Eyes open. Momentary lapses displaying signs of life, apart from the pulsing of rivers and the filling of sacs. Perfunctory. Dilation weakens, light refracts but does not enter past the […]