The black sun rose in the room of white walls and white ceilings.
The contracting cell, hitting my head on the stars as I wheel another galaxy into life.
The door, stood still, a stretch in front, a heavy thunder eating my ears.
‘Why?’ the question with never ending answers, no answer, no question, just infinity. Finity.
The floor beneath my feet, stairs down into an impossible horizon.
Beats and base pounding my heart as my work speeds through time.
Distance past a requiem for the clouds of existence.
‘We are all this’ – my twilight thought.
Creating the light, eating the dark.
Consumption of creation.
The never ending cycle.
A twist and turn as the clock ticked by another night of insomnia. Sporadic sleep, glimpses of rest in the haze of sweat as the summer nights claw. These thoughts, meaningless, but everything there is, everything I am. Without these thoughts, without these nights – meaningless. ‘Another morning, another breakfast’ I say to himself as the birds start to chirp. The sound of happiness is the sound of another night of failure.
I’m the voice in my brain. I’m the cause. I am the black sun rising.
This is just a random piece of experimental fiction. A slurry of words searching for reason. Please remember to like and follow. Thank you.