"Retreat" by Pinky and The Brain (silverdamocles and Fox)
Disclaimer: "The X-Files" is property of Chris Carter and Fox Network. Rate: PG Category: MT, MA, Mulder POV Spoilers: Within Summary: Hanging onto sanity by a thread... Feedback: dragonrider1ntlworld.com
The restraints have continued to slice into my skin from previous efforts at escape... or effecting relief. A reflex not entirely of my conscious mind, but born of claustrophobic desperation. Numbness at the tips of my fingers burn in their intensity. I hope this sensation will disperse to other regions where open wounds are festering. But what does it matter now? I slipped the surly bonds of earth like all those childhood imaginings, but just look at me. Trapped like a fly in amber in an otherworldly horror.
After endless hours that I can no longer count, I have found a retreat.
Into the far recesses of my mind where they cannot penetrate, I am free. A leaden chamber locked in my mind that secludes the last vestige of coherent awareness as I lie here and await the next atrocity. Their incessant probing may invade my physical being, but have not permeated through the desperate walls of my mind.
They cannot pursue me there. A mad laugh that could be my own cannons around my skull, mocking them from my safe harbor. Untouchable.
No matter what physical torment I endure, they have yet to discover my secret illicit refuge. On my most desolate intervals I withdraw into this niche where no pain is permitted.
It is where my memories exist.
They keep me sane in all the madness and delirium. Through despair and agony, I have this. I hang onto this with all ten talons of the desperate beast that is left of my sanity. Out of the abyss, these are beacons to lead me far from the suffering. One memory is so prominent from rest of them all.
Scully.
I memorize the contours of her face, the way her brows arch or crease out of skepticism or concern. The way her lips slowly curl into a full-blown smile, very rare and just for me. I burn her memory into my retinas, simultaneously with my heart. Loud and heavy all through me like a metronome sinking in molasses. My heart beat draws out the sound of her name like a litany, a much needed mantra.
I can lose all mortality in this thought, slide into a realm of euphoria.
With my memories I am not alone. I still feel connected, united with her.
I can sense her near and yet unable to grasp, to convey my location.
Until then I remain like an elemental, fetal in my retreat. Alive only for her memory.
Not so alone.
Denying the suffering.
Within my retreat.
Disclaimer: "The X-Files" is property of Chris Carter and Fox Network. Rate: PG Category: MT, MA, Mulder POV Spoilers: Within Summary: Hanging onto sanity by a thread... Feedback: dragonrider1ntlworld.com
The restraints have continued to slice into my skin from previous efforts at escape... or effecting relief. A reflex not entirely of my conscious mind, but born of claustrophobic desperation. Numbness at the tips of my fingers burn in their intensity. I hope this sensation will disperse to other regions where open wounds are festering. But what does it matter now? I slipped the surly bonds of earth like all those childhood imaginings, but just look at me. Trapped like a fly in amber in an otherworldly horror.
After endless hours that I can no longer count, I have found a retreat.
Into the far recesses of my mind where they cannot penetrate, I am free. A leaden chamber locked in my mind that secludes the last vestige of coherent awareness as I lie here and await the next atrocity. Their incessant probing may invade my physical being, but have not permeated through the desperate walls of my mind.
They cannot pursue me there. A mad laugh that could be my own cannons around my skull, mocking them from my safe harbor. Untouchable.
No matter what physical torment I endure, they have yet to discover my secret illicit refuge. On my most desolate intervals I withdraw into this niche where no pain is permitted.
It is where my memories exist.
They keep me sane in all the madness and delirium. Through despair and agony, I have this. I hang onto this with all ten talons of the desperate beast that is left of my sanity. Out of the abyss, these are beacons to lead me far from the suffering. One memory is so prominent from rest of them all.
Scully.
I memorize the contours of her face, the way her brows arch or crease out of skepticism or concern. The way her lips slowly curl into a full-blown smile, very rare and just for me. I burn her memory into my retinas, simultaneously with my heart. Loud and heavy all through me like a metronome sinking in molasses. My heart beat draws out the sound of her name like a litany, a much needed mantra.
I can lose all mortality in this thought, slide into a realm of euphoria.
With my memories I am not alone. I still feel connected, united with her.
I can sense her near and yet unable to grasp, to convey my location.
Until then I remain like an elemental, fetal in my retreat. Alive only for her memory.
Not so alone.
Denying the suffering.
Within my retreat.