Mental Landscapes

Akshay Gajria
The Coffeelicious
Published in
4 min readAug 24, 2018


Photo by Alex wong on Unsplash

City of Streets

In the city of streets, footsteps come wandering, circling, surrounding, engulfing you. You turn, round and around, but in despair. Who follows you from the multitude of the faceless millions, who stalks you from the shadows? You see the silhouettes in corners, reflections, a ghost. You seek it out, but are you the hunter or the prey?

After a treacherous path, you find it standing below an arch, a dark road stretching behind it. It draws near. It has been waiting for you. You reach out, as does it. Your hands touch, but they don’t. It knows you. You know it. You realise — in the city of streets, there is no escaping yourself.

The Other

“Are you real?”
“I could be. You tell me,” said the other.
“You seem to be. Why are you here?”
“I don’t know. Where are we?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Have you been here before?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“I…I know…something is wrong.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“I need…I can’t do…it’s difficult…”
“What’s difficult?”
“Maybe I can help?” said the other.
“You can?”
“Yes. But I will need complete honesty.”
“Yes…yes, anything.”
“So, tell me — are you real?”

Stone Walls

There is no escaping these walls. No window to peer through, no light seeping in. The taste of days past sits heavy on your throat. There is no escaping it. Your bloody fists know, only too well. Nails chipped and broken — too many scabs that itch. The silence in your voice is your only wail, helpless like a caged animal. You’ve lost the taste of words, meaningless and empty. You’re afraid of the light — it may blind you. The dark, cold stone embraces you. There is no escaping these walls of your own making. Within them, you will sleep the dreamless sleep of eternity.

In the end, that is the only escape.

“I Want It.”