/lit/ - Literature

>>16810449
This is a part of a prologue that I wrote. I would love to know your opinions. Thanks!

I begin to open my eyes to the dull noise of the distant echoes of my own existence wrapped in a forgotten night. The water in my refuge vibrates in unison with my heartbeat drowned out by the roar of a distant drum. My body surrounded by thick warm moisture levitates in this interior. I look without seeing, I move without touching, trapped in the safety of without knowing without abandoning being. I am a slave to peace, I am dominated by tranquility, dominated by the love of unconditional essentiality. The infinity of the whole does not overwhelm me, nor the abyss of this nothing scares me. And by realizing it, by giving it a word, by possessing the truth without depending on its presence, I free myself from this reality.
A light is invoked over the center of my head that penetrates the impervious darkness of my enclosure, dragging me towards its source. Its intensity blinds more than the nonexistence of my consciousness, forcing me to cover my sight. The much intimidates me, the little intimidates me. The answers are replaced by unknowns, and my tongue learns by itself to ask questions.
Two stars shine blue, pointing the way. I crawl through an undergrowth of meat, looking for my way out. I smell the autumn leaves at the end of the journey, and a hand grabs mine. ‘’ It's a boy ’’ They sing from above. I cry in a daze, panic and cold and desolate. Everything terrifies me, nothing consoles me, until I feel his embrace; takes me in after being banished.
His eyes were the stars in the sky that I always tried to climb. The orange of her hair cleanses my skin, envelops my body, marking the coming of spring life. I am a spectator of my birth, being my preconceived word to my emergence. I understand, but I do not understand, I hear, but I do not listen, I detail, but I do not see. His youthful smile is the only aspect that seems genuine in this contrived dream. My will deaf and numb by an overstimulated sensorium comparable to that of an infantile puppy raises my arms and takes out of my mouth an unintelligible and premature sound. She responds by bringing my body closer to hers, brushing her face with mine, reaffirming the security of my newborn being. Happiness is a contrasting rush, a fading flash in its own intensity, and in its present durability, I am subdued. I am contained in emotion, still with my reason seeking to escape. No concept is an anchor that gives weight to my existence, so I look for a rope that leads me to knowledge.

>>16809448
>'my sad life is so dark'
>actually is about the mind of an adult emerging from a fetus inside of a woman who isn't his mother and about his resistance to impulses by overanalyzing them with concepts as an attempt to control them.
Not that hard to understand bro.