The Box – Part 1

This emptiness I feel, awakened by the sound of large boulders passing by, dark noises pierced through this shaded empty box, I am in it, I feel concaved with depression, aroused by the unworthy desire for silence. Do I want to be saved from the box I am in, do I want to regret being alone, now, I hear much louder noises, they are starting to disappear, fading away into absence. A smile lights up the darkness of this container I am in.

I hear water, am I in water, am I lost, am I found, am I floating, am I near shore?  I need to leave, but being curled up in this box makes it harder to breathe, I want to move but I don’t want my box to burst, I need to keep it in tact. My life is confusing, it has always been this way, I want to move faster but always slowed down by the reality of the future, the disparity of nature, not being nurtured, always faulted by actions than reactions. We must tolerate our worst enemy to please our best enemy, our self, our own belief that life is much better to coincide with danger, to befriend the devil, but to allow the angel to sit beside you, talking to you, still the angel doesn’t understand you, while the devil does, the devil listens, and pays attention to your mishaps and applauses you on it. Why is this box shrinking, will it blow, will I drown, I’m sure now I’m in water, I hear whales passing by, the hum and noises they make when they brushed the box gently, the sharks conspiring  a plan to divulge me, when to take me in, I’m in pure pain, my legs hurt.  The octopus snug’s itself under the box and hugs it tight pushing it closer to the end of the earth, closer to the coral reef, to the bed of the sea, far from safety, closer to darkness, far from protection, the idea of being free is not a fact, it’s a distant memory, should I disappear, close my eyes and think of a better day, when I wasn’t here, when I wasn’t feeling like this. The day I saw a horse glancing in front of me, looking directly in my eye, I saw Its mane brush its forehead in slow motion trying to say something, it slammed the ground, once, twice, brushed the grass with its hoofed toe and came closer at this point it is almost 2 inches between us, I feel its breathe, then, out of nowhere it got shot in the stomach and I was on the ground hoping to get shocked by my own death. I was saved, by whom, by what. Why was I taken away from this scene, why was the horse shot, were they aiming at me? I will never know, but when I was awake I saw blood, those hairs that once brushed my face are now brushing the grave, full of grief, this eased my pain, being in this box, being in this hole of depression, knowing I will be saved somehow, allowed myself to breathe once again.

Though how am I truly breathing?

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