Failing to find a place of rest I continued to walk forward, just another step towards where home could have been. The rain had no mercy upon me in this day, it seemed content to slow me down. Giving thought to it sincerely, I’d never truly imagined it would have come down to this- that I’d be walking there again, towards the unknown- exposed to all elements. I carried very little with me, just what I could drag through the mud, a few precious possessions which seemed less and less to mean anything as I walked. Perhaps it was the mysterious call I heard once long ago that drove me so many miles south, countless hours, days, months- spent getting me to this position just to see a sight I’ve seen before. Something felt different, a sense of wonder lost perhaps? I had seen this creature before, this place- it moved constantly, shifting as quickly as my desire- or the tides for the worse when ironic questions are asked. Something clouded my memory slightly, associating feelings of warmth with a creature I could no longer properly envision. I could not properly say whether it was fear of a lack of that warmth, or sheer curiosity that kept me walking towards shelter- maybe it was just the rain, just the cold.

I had hoped many days that this was not the case, that I could potentially seek a place without a need, without my own desire clouding my vision. However, it seemed that the closer I got to my home- the more obscure it became. Much like any mirage in a vast desert, there was something up ahead- through these sheets of rain that fell- a massive figure creating an outline in the distance. This must be it. I tugged on my string to bring it forward, the sack I had been carrying- I realized after a short tug that it felt extremely light- as if something had snapped. Upon further inspection, turning around- clenching the string betwixt my fingers- I realized that I had lost my possessions long ago- some sort of phantom weight had been giving me this illusion of weight as I walked all this way, I couldn’t quite place my finger upon it- but I felt as if that burden left me at that moment, as if suddenly the weight of my past were cut away- and simply realizing that loss lifted some limiter away from my body. That pleasure was short lived as I turned once more to the outline of shelter, that creature of home- which stood so menacingly within closing obscurity. I closed my eyes and wished it would leave me, the desire for warmth- the desire for shelter- that the rain would stop pelting me- that I did not need a roof. But before I could consider this further my hand was upon the door- a chill shot up my spine as the freezing metal clung to my skin.

I felt warm for the first time in ages.

That was all I could remember- a warmth- I was touching that door… And some sort of drug, some sort of mirage, it was gone- all feelings left, all hopes replaced by weight. I tried to pull my string forward to inspect its cut, to perhaps see further what may have severed my ties to that personal weight- that I might lift this weight from inside- only to find that I was dragging my possessions again. The clouds were heavy with precipitation- it seemed the cycle was set to repeat, I looked behind me to see the figure I was leaving, that shelter I knew I could not return to- all warmth had left me- expansion, contraction- freezing and thawing. I was left a puddle- here I crawl again forward, to chase that feeling once more, that warmth ever evasive. If only for a moment- my bones could remember that warmth- and maybe some day they will, to put themselves to rest in comfort- to remove them from this shell that obscures me.


Don’t take it too personally, it was never meant to be. Your home is with us now. Become a part of our mass- become a part of our soul.

The Creative C*ult lives….