Hated with a passion.
Some are faded.
But far from belated.
But nonetheless they haunt me, so.
crawling, but aching, reaching for something,
but I can hardly see it, let alone feel it.

I must purge these fighting nightmares,
in which no fiction could fake.
Close your eyes, no wait!
that's why there here in the first place.

A surrounding wind that nature cannot be credited for.
Not nature, and not even I.
I could not have provoked such a dark and pitiless essence,
or was it I that rang the bell to signify their presence.
It usually is.
But to this extent?
No one could possibly do such a thing.
Well, apparently, no one, but I.

I can't feel my feet, I'm so induced with fear.
I don't even think they're still their.
How am I expected to barge through these beings,
when at this point, I'm numb.
At least their fires can't hurt me physically,
if anything...

Woe.
Shame.
Rage.
Towards myself and all around me.
What am I to do?
I've been gone for so long,
distant in my sleep,
only to arrive home with open eyes,
to this state in which has not been named.
I think I'll call it, death.
Because it sure feels as though I'm this close to peril.

Wait!
Wait!
Wait a second!
Maybe I haven't woken up just yet.
I may still be in this hellish realm of dark dreams and endless pits,
of what I would never desire, but dream of being dead to me.
This could be a rough translation of everything I cannot stand...
No!
Everything I didn't understand
No!
Everything I treated poorly,
in my own discrete way of saying,
absolutely nothing at all,
just as I am now.

Dammit, boy, you don't have much time.
Stop blabbering!
Awaken!

My eyes open.
I am shivering.
Home?
Doesn't seem like it.
But it is.
What am I saying?
I feel safe, I know this place,
and home is everything this is.
And so, I'm home, again.

Actually,
only my mind had left,
but I feel it's journey.
I feel it's pain.
But now it's faded,
and somewhat belated,
With such a passion to live.