Upward, Beyond

He breathes heavily, expelling stale air and worry, and blinks away the aftermath of his mental daydream. It is the same one, the wishful thoughts of what he will do next, later, tomorrow, in the future, someday...whenever...hopefully, with his burning continuing inside of the body that contains the dreaming apparatus. And he exerts tiny movements in his lull of life, his lanquid self-centered bubble of thoughtful dead air; he is the half-deflated ballon tied to the bedpost of the kid who has forgotten the cotton candy, discarded the crappy stuffed bear, the entry stamp now faded from the small hand along with the lights and excitement and feeling of discovery and giddy recklessness.
It was inactive once, just as it was with the non-fenced open expansion: this drive to become, to rise above the slump of his surroundings, the impetus of forward direction consumed him into believing his heading to be correct. Just as this glowing force moved him so did the tidal wash of darkened disappointment clutch him into the undertow of immobility, the fear-faced inertia burdening his desperate, twitching limbs and numbing the impulsive attempted starts and fits to snap the atrophy of his stagnation.
Somewhere, some-dark-where, his grasping hand clutched a hand-hold and clung for his life on the slick walls of despair. And he climbed, he toiled, he gained upward movement, and he began to change. Was it the harsh bottom? Could he have belief?
Lessons in finding the proper placement of trust, the faith of a single step, the pulse of his blood in his constant ascent calmed that abandoned place inside, the desert that lacked hope or clarity.
He is tired. He clutches nobs and wedges his feet into strange positions of foundation. He worries about his rate, about his time, about his position. He sees no light ahead and blackness wishes to paint him into its endless, draining gulf as it snaps at his beaten ankles. On this arduous wall of shadows, he has but two choices: overcome or fail, fall, flail helplessly into the encroaching demise. He is worn, he is beat-down, he is fatigued. He breathes heavily, searching for the next step.