Today I drew a line on a canvas... but instead of getting better, it grew smaller. So I pressed with all of my strength onto the graphite nib, and brought into mind images from the past. But still it grew smaller.
So I held out a mirror, and placed it before the canvas, and I drew the simple lines I saw reflected. Only the point of contact rippled like water, and blurred reality and the mirror shattered.
I held the shards of glass in my hands and opened the window, where a strong cold breeze blew inwards, and a phantom from the past breathed cigarette smoke into my mouth until I choked.
The shards by now had crawled into my skin and the canvas was painted with blood, but the phantom remained.
"Who are you?" was the simple question I conjured to this beast.
"Your regrets" it said plainly, and seated itself among my furnishings.
"They won't be there long you know..." I said... "My things, you may sit for now, but soon they will be gone"...
He sighed... and said "I know, that is why I am here" and standing again he said " Are you ready?"
"For what?!" I screamed.
"You know..." he said with a look of pity "Come"
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