Portals To Another World

Rose garden of thoughts

A rose bush filled with bright red flowers, plaged by thorns. I sit beside it on the cold concrete bench. People eyes spit black gel that sticks to me as they walk past, cracking my fragile shell and taking pieces with them. Only winds fill my ears yet I hear voices, whispering and dancing the spell casting dance. Maybe it's better this way, maybe it was always better this way! Maybe no one saw. But what if they did, I question the wind, what if they saw my eyes dart from eye to eye, speaking to the wind. Maybe they see my cracked skull, damaged with time and worn with overuse.
The concrete splits below me the only steady thing crumbling before me. Maybe it's better this- I scream and shout into the cold harsh wind. Standing on a cliff yet still on the bench, watching over waves. They crash into the side over and over how do they not get tired of trying. Breath mixing with air. Anguish and turmoil inside my brain, what is this life why are we here and why am I told not to ask. Suffering and annoyance, lighting strikes the cliff side and suddenly I'm falling. Through the air. Questions floating and answers just out of reach. Falling twisting shouting screaming. Look left and right and see people I love falling too, covered in that same black gel, no! I cry out and try reach for them. Screaming and screaming thoughts whirling and making my head pound. The roar in my eyes growing louder as I fall faster. The ground hurtles towards me and I fold into myself, holding myself in a tight ball. Please no too many thoughts too many people falling because of me. Disorder in my head. A hectic flurry of death wishes. Faster and faster and faster until the wind becomes knives that nip at my skin. Faster and louder screams, faster and faster. Closer and closer to the ground. Til finally, I slam against-

A tap on my shoulder. I'm back on the bench next to the rose bush. It's not cracked. I'm not covered in black gel. Nowhere to be seen is the cliff.