Pathos dwells in my heart

A mechanical whir. It reminds me of my father's scream. A cloth, it is white, held by four, three are small, unknown. I stand in front of it, next to it, a statue, huge. A child's experience, processing, confusion. Green nets like coordinates, dark the surroundings, a moving pyramid like a tank. There. It's so powerful, a thousand times bigger, for the first time in my life I feel tiny, devoted. Screams are quiet but do not fall silent. It's dripping. Slowly, like grenades, they detonate on sheet metal, I almost lose sanity, my field of vision narrows, I see bigger, more detailed, almost through things, but I can't be sure if I am hallucinating, my forehead is boiling. The sun drains water from my eyes, I long for the avenue of trees, the forest, the magic that the air holds, the creature, I cannot remember its appearance, if I try it changes its form. In this place slumbers the feeling that I would give my life for.

Two-dimensional. Not really, it changes like eternity. Black and white, it's like a cartoon, I fall through the pipes, into rooms full of meaningless figures, I disappear. The blue hole that released the sky, between all the clouds told him images, long forgotten, the street, the field, the river. (?) snakes, jungle, an earthy path, we are together. (?) an oval construct, full of shimmering stones, their colors like the smoke of a burning soul, deep like strings. The floor crystalline, behind it the vastness of space, soon I will not be here anymore. Without seeing her I recognize the queen, an ancient deity, an adept of creation. She has no thoughts, just instinct and care, she is sad.

His memory was wide, his subconscious kept him alive by seducing him again and again with flashes of his origin. He could not leave, it was too important to him. The borders would melt away, there was much more there than anyone would believe, he had been here before. Not yet happened events in the night, behind his eyes, a crack in the envelope, just to see what distance the air covered to breathe. Disinformation, a mistake in his train of thought, the imperfection of the mind, anatomically, biologically conditioned, the brain was not infallible, nobody had assumed that either. The psyche programmable, vulnerable, lethal. He would never be allowed to know how complex and intertwined his being was.

The shield was as hard and raw as diamonds, a chain of rocks, insurmountable, a torrent of worry and tension. He declared war on this shield, but as in any war, there was no winner. It was not possible for him to make peace, he was actually not sure if he had ever really tried. It dragged him on the street, in the depths, closer to the fire. It kept him from conversation, intimacy, rest. He would stumble, burst, be catapulted into the air with pressure, right in front of the gates of heaven. He imagines it to be soft, like wool. Probably many did. He was still sitting, undecided, it would be better soon, he did everything for it, he did a lot. He could have done more. But at the moment he was just sitting. At least he wrote, that was how he earned his cigarette.

I cant solve the riddle

There is nowhere to run

I became the shadow

that i tried hiding from

I pray to the skies

The spirits told me that im gone

I am not exactly sure

how to carry on

Pathos.