It was the type of trip where time fades into itself, where days blend into hours, melting upon the skin, absorbed in what could be considered the concept of memory.
The cool night air should have shifted into morning hours ago. Some of the stars reflected this. But they were classified by others as comets, slowly trekking out of grasp across the sky. Names were said in glee. They flew over heads, destined to get remembered while staring at ceilings. That was simply the way things were, and they had been going on for far too long.
Salt forced its way into mouths. It rode on the backs of droplets, flying through the air, refusing to get forgotten in the painting that was the boat ride. A bitter thing. Maybe that wasn’t the right word for it. Maybe it was perfect. Doubt was easy to creep in, quick to find homes in places it should never have visited. This was recognized, and it would always almost remain unknown, true faith bordering on the edge of unobtainable.
Wind rustled through clothing, sending brief shouts of joy into the setting sun. Moments rose and fell like fragments of fifty-five spheres, time diluting once in cupped hands. Shadows became visible like breathing. They grew from the painted wood, peaking under a freckled sky, fading with the sun, whipping around in wind as if comprised of paper. It was as if the soul was torn from the body, and yet, the composition of morality remained untouched. Nothing to feel. Excruciating pain indescribable.
Land faltered. It was like the palace; too far and too close in heartbeats of a blink. Distance between grounds expanded, except that it went the wrong way. This was all wrong. Time came crashing onto itself. Skin began to sag despite looking tighter than ever. Simple things felt too heavy to carry all of a sudden, as if all of the muscles that made up the body decided that work was too much, everything was too much, and there was no point in pretending in lopsided pretension if no one was bothering to watch.
And that gentle sound of the rocking waves hitting the ocean crescendoed past the point of a beautiful melody. The noise was a roar, screaming unwanted knowledge into minds. It couldn’t be blocked out. Hands rose to ears in foolish attempts. Blood burst from various points, various scars. Weak visuals to focus on.
Everything was too much. The salt burned. Nothing could be held. No weapons. No concepts. No vague ideas given as mock-gifts to pass the time. Someone was crying. It went unheard. The only thing was to push through the pain and hope that someone would take mercy.
And it all dissipated.
For there was no point in keeping them away if they were already here with no intention to leave without a battle