Immure

Constraint and restriction of physicality; the wish to elude inanity.

Her hands held delicately, the cuff amongst them. For it's embrace is to restrain wrists in their attachment of me. She came caped in white cloth, as a nurse would typically attire. Her scent of light lilac and blonde curls of unshaken gold; a pale beauty to refute in my escape... or plan(s) thereof.

What a creature, she may well be, in my observation. To sigh is to acknowledge and thereby find acceptance in my capture; Too grand of an act for a deviant, that I am. I will give no conclusion to further rebellion, through aggression, neither. Too obvious. Rather, silently glare the young beauty's obedience to the commitment of careers she seems to have chosen and present, but yet another act of disappearance in a nearing occasion.

She does not give way to smile before the small of her back is shown and to disappear, her own, she does; lights to follow swiftly after her in the form of a romantic passion. Impulsive, and quite lovingly deceptive.

A struggle for breath, it's become, the atmosphere stricken. Small whispers trailing the vents nearby among the ceiling tile; echoes to cast the walls.

He's come.

The frantics of his mocking, more loudly to be heard, the pitches of frequencies to rise into madness of strengths and I stare the ceilings without twitch, without blink. My flesh has tensed and has acquired this defense for the preparation of his arrival. In its loudness, he lurks more closely, into reaching utter silence in its most deafening of tones. Quiet, the whisper has ceased, and still. I grab my breath and  hold it so.

For he's here.

I feel the weight of my flesh harden, as if a stiffened corpse awaiting retrieval, somehow and in some way safer than this. I close my eyes to believe "No one is here. No one will be here. Someone safer will co ..."

To find myself fear struck, I've felt the small touch about my lower legging. A spider it feels, or perhaps many of them; so lightly tread it could itch and give a discomfort of annoyance. Not spiders, no, but perhaps the tips of fingers, brushing the skin. I am mute to forbidden screams; lack the belief others will spare me of the mortal fear that has become immortally experienced. Could I scream? It has seemingly appeared for naught.

The touch lingers more upwardly and in fear of the sight of him again, I close my eyes more tightly. It is beyond comprehension, it's cleverness of inane disguise. For it is not inane itself, but masks itself behind those that are inane. To travel between the lot of us who are considerably, by legal definition, unfit for life's daily grasps.

I am swarmed with a thousand touches, as if there has become many of them to appear, though I am unconvinced; for it is one creature to act as a legion of arms. In suffocation, I must breath and to gasp hard, I do so unknowingly of what awaits the ability of a mouth's opening.

For he finds a way inside. I am then plagued with a sense of burning as if a fire set ablaze to my innards. I can smell the stench of decay that is of myself rotting and withering. My eyes, in a forceful response glance open, and to see a world standing before me, for which all persons are set fire to themselves, the screams of agony and yet no signs of hell, for it appears, too earthly.

I peer downward and find in the crevice of my chest, a burning flame for which the pain has ridden; It is not my screams to follow the others. Through burn holes into my flesh, I see the flicker of light that is incapable of exhaustion; for fear to discover, this feels like pride.

In a struggle in my throat, I hear the sirens that is of my own vocal chords, as if speech that is enforced that is not of my command. My voice, but another's words; he has sought to speak through my chords. In the lack of ability to speak, he is removed of my throat and bodily.

Silence has struck, and the atmosphere calms, yet again. Whispers to trail the vents, though more quietly until vanquished. I breathe and my flesh turns softened.

Why, knowledge lies grotesque and ghastly, masked behind quite beautiful treachery. I believe in all that is fearful, has become all that is marvelous. We burn a light that is agony and gracious; we scream in its pain and lavish in its luxury.

I awake to her hands delicately finding removal of cuffs that bound the wrists in their attachment of me. She peers a smile and she is enchanting, her kindness. She has come caped in red, as a nurse does not typically attire; the wide dilation of her eyes, I find hypnotized. I give a sigh.

I believe I will stay, just a small while longer.