The Next Step

[jack_babalon]

Maybe it's true. I've got a room booked for a very long, dark night of the soul here in the Chapel Perilous and without any Lancelot intentions to drop down as a deposit. I'm up shit's Cretan Labyrinth without a thread and it's the running of the minotaurs 24-7. I'm stuck at the bottom of the Second Act's rising action with a writer's block as big as Sisyphus' boulder (and it's gonna take some serious balls to move it). But maybe it's also true that this prison is just a chrysalis, a honey golden cocoon from which one day terrible wings will break free in flight. That this mask I've been wearing has been a map all along with two I wholes punched out of it and an X marking the spot where a mouth should be. That this devil's dirge I've been dancing to has been nothing more than an angel's symphony played at the wrong speed all along. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'm just sleepwalking backwards out of a grave, whistling softly these dreams and guesses to the patient dead. All I know for sure then is that the next step needs to be taken.