Reflecting Whore

An echo of a ticking clock beats against the inside of my head. Time seems to be running out and I feel panicked. I don't know exactly why I am in such a hurry but it seems a matter of urgency that I get to some distant destination. Where this destination is, I do not know. Nothing is making sense in this haze of urgency but I need to get away. But where? There is nowhere to run and I find myself walking along a path, which appears to lead nowhere. Perhaps it is nowhere that I am being drawn to. A nowhere land where perhaps there shall be nowhere people to invite me in. I feel lost as I take each step with caution, only to find myself out of breath. Am I moving too slowly? Time is running out! I hear the beating quickening and I want to keep rhythm, "why is this so?" fleets through my mind, nevertheless I pick up my pace as I travel along the road.

Where is this urgency coming from? Have I wasted too much time as I've moved along this road. I don't remember. I am scared. My heart pounds and the pit of my stomach crawls with anticipation, I sense danger as it slides past unseen. What is that feeling? I feel confused. Have I been to this place before? Deja vu hits me, this fear I have felt before. It is the unknown that crawls beneath my skin, slithering it's way into my cells, making me sick with nausea. I know where this nowhere land is, the fear reveals itself without shame nor remorse.

It is the future. I feel powerless in the face of her blank stare. A face, which seems so featureless and absent yet somehow beckons attention. I feel compelled to gaze into those hidden eyes. My gaze is drawn to hers as she glares with vicious eyes, shining obsidian with a menacing lustre. The wide black eyes of an unknowable world. It scoffs with an inaudible laughter as it draws me close and opens a portal where I can peer through the darkness and into what might be. A world beyond, which coalesces with what could have been and what has been. A non existent world, however the lustful whore seduces me to peer into the mirror with "future" smeared across it in red lipstick. The future reflection appears real as I look into the crystal for some detail that will serve me. All I see is a past and I am mortified that the future could be so identical to what has been. There must be something wrong, perhaps with me, that the future doesn't change and all that changes is the cycle of years. The dark whore laughs at me as I fall back into the here and now. The jeering laughter mocks me with the question "What did you hope to see?"