//------------------------------//
// Lucid 
// Story: Autophobia 
// by Ice Star 
//------------------------------//


each step is through a dream that She only wishes to wake up from
NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE
a dream that She wants to forget upon waking up
never to recall a single detail
She hopes to be lost
not lucid

hooves of gold return to the tower of stone
each held in place by the sorrow of two sisters
the one stopped listening
and the other stopped talking

dust
covers the surface of each broken and rotted trinket until She recognizes it no more
ash
coats the hallways of each forsaken small She must duck to enter
flilth 
clings only to Her who wanders them
fog
masks Her eyes that no longer see where they are
cold
numbness pricks each strand of Her white, now dirtied fur, as She feels the lingering chill

somewhere in that catatonia, the princess is found
mist clears, if only barely
as She sees a door to chamber
that is now open
as it was never before
only because a bond was broken
and the hinges can no longer do anything
but squeak squeak squeak
like it's silent resident never did

everything is still preserved under wraps of dust
hardly any snow finds its way into her prison
bed sheets still unmade
little signs of yesterday
last week
everyday
so many years ago
all still felt today

small lumps of melting white dot their way
across the room
like little hooves
in perfect measure
to a few sad volumes
nestled in a few old cloaks lumped into a pile 
on the floor
moth eaten fur colors
hide precious pages
that survived everything else
worn but intact

little gold light
plucks one up
still in a daze
words tumble out
from page one