![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Dec. 15th, 2012 08:41 amThe ceiling was the heel of a boot threatening to crush me out, never quite coming down, never taken away, holding level as though to show its implacable resolve in pursuit of this intimidation. I rolled over and saw the walls. It had friends, this ceiling. In their press to destroy they had crowded one another just enough to give me this momentary space of life. Following the wafting ghost of a hope of escape my eyes found the floor. So, closed in entirely. Devoured but not yet swallowed. I walked over to the fridge and drank the little milk provided.
In the larger chamber we gathered to shake our heads at the vast suffocating moats above and about us, and at the hard and treacherous platform below our feet, clearly a mere scaffolding rendered opaque to give the illusion of firmness - in fact a pit-pocked skin of crystal stretched over man-melting magma ten thousand miles deep.
A great rock rolled its menace overhead. Long ago it had been thrown up, and none could fail to understand it was promised to fall to Earth again. When it did who could doubt we would all be crushed. Far above, spread out as far as sight itself, unnumbered squinting glints foresaw that show.
Somberly we renewed our inevitably decaying dwellings by piling rock upon rock or scraping together more temporary but warmer structures from the grotesque growths that teemed in danker portions of our prison floor. Bits of these we sucked at in our hunger. Our scouts eventually returned with the news that time had been found and examined and would end with the dispersal of every tenth of every millionth bit of anything. Others informed us at about the same time that the prison guardians were either dead or had always been hallucinations.
We made a system of artificial vines to relay our whispers and wistful imaginings of impossible freedoms and security. A Korean man convinced us to pretend there were sufficient ponies for all. We learned to deep fry cheese. If you are patient some songs become sixty-nine cents.
I will never lick that boot in whose shadow I nightly lie. But I do not curse it either. It only does what I would in its place.
In the larger chamber we gathered to shake our heads at the vast suffocating moats above and about us, and at the hard and treacherous platform below our feet, clearly a mere scaffolding rendered opaque to give the illusion of firmness - in fact a pit-pocked skin of crystal stretched over man-melting magma ten thousand miles deep.
A great rock rolled its menace overhead. Long ago it had been thrown up, and none could fail to understand it was promised to fall to Earth again. When it did who could doubt we would all be crushed. Far above, spread out as far as sight itself, unnumbered squinting glints foresaw that show.
Somberly we renewed our inevitably decaying dwellings by piling rock upon rock or scraping together more temporary but warmer structures from the grotesque growths that teemed in danker portions of our prison floor. Bits of these we sucked at in our hunger. Our scouts eventually returned with the news that time had been found and examined and would end with the dispersal of every tenth of every millionth bit of anything. Others informed us at about the same time that the prison guardians were either dead or had always been hallucinations.
We made a system of artificial vines to relay our whispers and wistful imaginings of impossible freedoms and security. A Korean man convinced us to pretend there were sufficient ponies for all. We learned to deep fry cheese. If you are patient some songs become sixty-nine cents.
I will never lick that boot in whose shadow I nightly lie. But I do not curse it either. It only does what I would in its place.
