Losing sense.

Session Two Aftermath:

No sound. No color. No light. My rods and cones were of little use and it was still a pleasure. There were gems of unspeakable truth. I craved the next thought with no worry of what was left behind. I relished the darkness with comfort of its honesty. I fell at peace even in the bowels of my doubt and discomfort. Or was it because I knew of where I was? I knew my surroundings. After all, I did sign up for it. So could this one be okay with being thrown into the darkness, not knowing of where they are or what’s around them?

My nose is stuffy through the process, and I have not a shred of sickness. I stretched my head even further as I reached wide with hopes of bringing air into this body.

When I inhaled, it felt as if I were being plucked by the gods themselves. I wondered what they would do with such an insignificant thing. I am not the sweetest of fruits nor do I hold any juices of wisdom. Yet, I was played with like the clay that I am. I was molded to whatever their hands desired and I learned with every touch they blessed me with. One became entertained with a free mind to their curious ways. They put me down with hopes of laughter as they placed bets on what I would remember. It was a game for everyone to enjoy so long as they remained light-hearted and content. Their final words expressed truth and equal pleasure between gods and play-doh. They shared similarities between them and divulged only one difference within a poem which they sang out loud. But I fear a loss of memory as I fear the consequence of draining the pockets of a god. This can be a threatening matter or it can be the lightest of jests. For the only difference between us is the manner of seriousness in which we bring to our creations.

C.R. Angel

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