Awakening to the open and lonely intermediate world I know as “the staircase” I feel rested, as if I had slept for 10 years. A sort of hibernation; it was exceptionally good for me, but I feel corrupt now. The seed of boredom has opened doorways in me that I fear are exceedingly difficult to close.

As I get up to my feet and start descending for a change, I follow the scent of sin it seems. Like a black gas that is stretched across the scape I walk down it becomes stronger as I near the doorway to what I seek.

In my minds eye the door I am looking for has dark smoke flowing from its edges and contains a world that is definitely the wrong decision and most certainly the fall of my consciousness into a lower dimension. One where guilt reigns and does not allow for any rapid forgiveness of self.

Not long after imagining what I seek I find this exact door – black as pitch with a red shine at its sides, the smoke as I had viewed it. I open the door to find the typical scene of beauty that I will destroy by indulging in the feast I see before me. My true love sits at the table with hollow eyes that are crying black tears, having had a bite to eat already.

Bewitched I sit down at the other end of the table. In disgust I cut off a piece of chicken and eat it as if it were merely the physical substance – tricking my mind and entering in the disconnection that is engaging in sin. Like a professional I divide and justify my actions with logic and reason as if there is nothing wrong with my wrongdoing. Slowly and surely, I indulge in a delicious meal along with great conversation as we triumph over our souls best wishes. So glad that we are doing something different and new – as though it were evolution.

Its like willingly taking in poison that makes you feel good at first and lets you pay the price later. Ignorantly taking up the load of work it is to get out of this pit I have plunged myself into the conversation becomes a memory and I am left with the morning after.

Head complacent and thoughts everywhere, its like a shattered mirror. Just broken, yet all the pieces are there.

Mending this mirror is no physical act but a spiritual one that takes years to repair.

Day by day my life becomes worse as I become estranged to my wife and the division between the rooms we live in becomes wider. The mirror in my bathroom is broken along with every mirror I ever look at, not to mention the mirror that is my mind. I cannot seem to put 2 and 2 together and I think in separate boxes. My mind is never whole, and I must traverse my mindscape as if logging into a different self when I focus on something that is of a different subject.

Life is in pieces, guilt is the wall I am up against and I struggle to remember how to be normal, having to understand what I did and why I did it every day as the sin amounts to greater and greater levels as every day goes by and I am not one with my soul. Fractured I find or maybe I just imagine pieces that could fit so that I can stop the torture.

Its like I’m still digesting that terrible dinner, the poison has seeped in deep and left its mark on my soul and not just my body.

Going by false truths and excuses along with just blatantly distracting myself from working on my soul to pass the time I feel as though I am adrift in a sea – no end to ocean in sight.

Completely alone now I have cut off all contact to anyone that I could fancy and am slowly going mad – maybe ill build new dreams instead of following my old ones. That seems like a good idea, dreams of land where they accept me for what I have become.

It will be a world where everything has been built from the imagination and not my spirit, because if I go to a world where everything would be of the state of my spirit I would belong to hell. No, I want things to be the way I think it must be along with everyone that thinks of a world that is similar. This way we can all decide on what the world will be like and forfeit the world as it really is.

My delusion made real – as I started to adhere to my insanity I found land and got taken up by a home for the ones without a roof over their heads, all in the name of kindness (the front). I learnt some skills and made a living that distracted me from the truth of my past. No one was interested in my story and the ones I told it to found it literally unbelievable so they actually didn’t believe it.

There was no point in being heartfelt since the point was to do what you THINK is right instead of what you feel is right.

This place harboured my sinful ways and cultivated them into a norm I got used to over the years. I was lonesome and could not find my true love anymore so I gave up on love to find someone I thought was right for me – what I did impressed her and she thought I was the right man for her so we got married.

I thought life was bliss and my sinful ways were behind me but as I got older and the problems of our different beliefs became all we had life got tougher. I started wishing things were better or simply different. My previous life just a mirage in the endless city that was my life.

It took me years to drift back onto the sea, so I secretly devised a plan to kill myself.

It would take courage and another few years before I built that up and on that night, grey and weak I finally cut my wrists – it felt as though I had just eaten the last bite of that meal I so enjoyed with my love.

The world swirled and I was transported to the time I had just endeavoured to open that door to my sinful desires. It no longer felt right, I did not regret what I had lived and there was still that smirk on my lips but what I had learned had made me reject the notion of opening that door and stepping in.

Thinking better of it I regretted that room so full of boredom. It’s a low form of self along with boredom that drives you into thinking outside the box too much.