A Prisoner of Darkness

For god sake I hope I make it out of here.

However, I am coming to doubt I ever will. However, if I were to escape, would my mind ever leave this place of winding passages and doors that lead to everywhere and nowhere? Even as I write this, waxy ivory candles burn with a false luminance to guide my quill across the yellowing parchment beneath my fingertips. My fingertips are yellowing. For too long I have not seen sunlight; not been blessed with the gift of the dawn and instead live within an artificial night created by him. Only him.

It has been too long since I last sent a letter to my beloved sister, indeed, I have not tried since I realised he had not been sending them off. Yet, I still attempt to write letter inside this book that I like to dream would somehow find her, on the wings of a snowy white dove perhaps? The cry of an albatross in flight. Somehow, I will tell her I am okay. Somehow, I must let her know that despite the fact that she will never see me again, I love her. Perhaps if I open the window silently at midnight and call to her she will somehow hear me across the seas.

I do believe I am beginning to lose my mind.

This labyrinth of darkness and opulence and grandeur and imagination has slithered its way into my weary mind and found a home within my temple. I do not suppose I have long. Either I escape or I will never escape my own mind.

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