Thought Forty Nine

I have walked through these darkened rooms and halls many times before. The ground wet and muddy outside of these shambling walls. The faces and names different, but still the same.

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In this one, I see an old gun in the hand of a dark one. She is lost in the madness of pain and eventually her own death. None will rejoice for none will see.

I walk into a room, the light dim. Only to have another extinguish the light and run away. The lost things swirl and grab for me. But I am not afraid. Fear too was lost to me long ago.

Walking forward, these tenuous things, they grab and swirl. With their claws, they rake and tear at me. Blood pools in each step as I walk. Swatting them away as the gnats that they are, I move forward toward an unknown place that lies ahead. In this though, I will remember. I will know all that I have known before. All that I have been and will ever be.

The road will be long and perhaps painful. This one has already been such. But I choose to embrace the pain. To make it my own, to welcome it’s transitory sensation and remember it as the old bitter friend that it is.

This new year I will walk alone.

The daemons and gods that haunt me, unfaithful companions of timelessness. I will think and write. Explore the hidden deepness in my mind and perhaps the madness that lay therein.

And I will remember.




Author: Robertus Invictus Maximus

Walking alone, in this the white desert.

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