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Internal Thoughts
That which comes from guarded folds
Work in progress


Rose oil settles into the pores of my skin, the scent drifting teasingly in and around me. I lay silently, rays of light prying gently at my eyelids. There is a low murmur of muffled voices resonating through my head, their words less than coherent. My senses are tossed lightly in every direction, I can feel the seeping cold of smooth stone beneath me, smell the musky damp of perspiration mixing unpleasantly with rose and... tree bark... wait, tree bark? Suddenly my curiosity is sparked, and I try unsuccessfully to pry open my eyes. I am unable to move and the curiosity turns from panic to horror as the thought "paralyzed" enters my mind. I have the urge to cry out but am unable, my mouth is reluctant to obey my command to open, seeming content in it's state of closed solitude. My attention is drawn now to the voices around me, the only clue to my bodily imprisonment. I listen intently for a recognizable word, a familiar phrase, an insight to the horror I find myself in, but they are, as before, merely muffled murmurs of incomprehensible sound. My heart begins to race and my minds clarity is slowly eaten away by the spreading panic of imagination. I'm thrown into a image of garrulous things, shifting around me with poised knives and gnashing teeth. I laugh inwardly at the cowardice of my inner mind, chastising my inability to think rationally.





 
 

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