Formication - Agnosia

On the edge of sleep for the final time again dropping into a dreamless panic; forcing blood back and forth through shattering valves while thought processes fragmented by advancing years begin a nervesplintering regression from the banal inevitability of ageing modern bodies into awkward skittering flashbacks. Where has all the oxygen gone? Whose face is that in the dark? Is it even a face?

In the creeping cold light an hour before dawn an indistinct fairy-tale of half-remembered childhood dreams beckons you through your broken bedroom window into the forest of sticks to confront your fears. Why is it so unsettling to watch yourself revisit memories of warm carefree summers? Why do the trees lean and leer as a bloodshot sun begins to scrape painfully into the heavens? Surely these were your halcyon days? …running through trees, meadows, small streams …the familiar smell of damp earth inside overgrown abandoned buildings miles from anywhere. Something is not right; something has changed and you
can’t call out a warning.

But it’s getting dark again. Rain falls in the night. Thunder beckons as if the sky has a heartbeat... the faces flash closer. Keep running.
Maybe everything you have been and have ever experienced should never have been re-united with the past. Sit, breathe – be still. There is still comfort here… but you will have to keep a clear head to find it....

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