Delirium -nikraria- Now

When a mirror looks at you, you do not see yourself. You see every self you have ever failed to become.

The fog, however, had other plans.

On the second night, I woke to find my left hand writing in a language I did not know. The letters were spirals. Snail-shell sentences. It wrote: “The spine is a ladder. The blood is a staircase. Climb down.” I burned the page. My hand wrote it again on the wall in ash. Delirium -Nikraria-

And the mirror-woman? She was standing behind me. Smiling with a thousand cracked lips. I am back in my room now. The pier. The rust-smelling sea. When a mirror looks at you, you do not see yourself