Weeping Walls

I leapt back in. I can’t remember what day of the week it was or even what month, but I know the clocks read 22:19 and the wind outside was howling cold. Now I sit back on the same cold floor surrounded by the same dirt walls and the same clouds looming overhead. It’s all familiar, it’s all just how I left it. The voices haven’t changed a bit.

I don’t cry tears, but I choke on them all the same. I don’t bite my nails, but they’re nibbled down to nothing. I’m too tired to react with my instinct. I don’t flinch, I don’t lunge. I sit and the swarm arrives. All I pray for is a thoughtless night, but there are none to be offered.



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