Cradled. Limping.

Here I am, cradling myself on this cold floor. 

Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to think. 

Blank, my head's gone completely blank. 

I'm no longer seeing the top of mountains, or at least, being on top of the mountain. 

But, I, am watching the dark sky that hasn't any stars on it. Complete and utter darkness. 

Even the moon hid it's shine away from me. Disgusted, repulsed. 

Thus, my hands remain cold, my lips remain untouched, my skin dry as the Kalahari, and yet, I am drowning.

 Without any pilot to drive my empty head, where will I crash next? 

I do not see my shining light, I do not see my self in the mirror. Have I gone invisible? 

I'm on the site of an earthquake. And everything is still crumbling, shaking down to the ground. 

Never leaving me any scrap and pieces to keep. Never having the chance to speak, duct taped and tied on an anchor. 

My food remains untouched. Not tempted by its taste nor decorations. 

No, no. Nothing. 

Only the tears that flood my eyes and pour onto my face speaks for me.

Monster, I am a monster 

waiting to be caught, and slaughtered by the neck. 

And the floor will bleed of my blood, eyes remain opened as my life flashes right in front of my cornea.