Death of a Sage


“…I’m just calling to tell you…”


The door in front of me opens, but it feels as if another has closed. The key lost in a pit. Never again will the knob turn, but the door will never be broken. I feel as if I’m floating.

The anti-drug’s anti-drug.

Everything about me is ethereal. My pulse is increasing, I could kill someone at that moment. If I did it would be two deaths I’d be aware of.

Only one I would care about.

The sky is heavy as it weighs down onto my shoulders I sink into the concrete. Roots growing around me, but they only form a path for me to stumble. The right side of my brain dies at this point. Only logical thinking and bitterness pollinates the grey soil inside my head. My ability to keep my composure is all but exhausted. My shadow fades away, just as I struggle to remember you. The thought of you will always be a remembrance from this point on. As if it’s the last chance I can remember you before I accept it. Before my mind gives way to every conceivable ideology that though you are not, you will always be.

I falter just as you faltered.

The cold grip had the advantage. The wind blew colder that night. I would remember this cold even as I lay asleep; As my knees buckle and my iron shield shattered. I fall. My back held straight by your knowledge.


A comforting warmth as I am embraced. She becomes my shadow. A small vine grows from the right side, it sparks and I am whole again.

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