Cognitive Siege

A fixture of grief, anchored where memory splits. The quest unfolds in fog— no path, just pulses of unease mimicking direction. Every thought incurs penalty. Fear taxes breath. Dread rewrites the map before the journey begins. An unseen impact knocks the axis off center— consciousness spirals, fractured, repeating. Focus becomes a casualty. There are voices, but they speak only in sanctions. No comment. No deviation. No witness. Even breath becomes strategic— withheld, rationed, used to mask retreat. I speak in silence now. Each word I don't say becomes another wound I have to learn to live around.