Call me mister know it all...

His life was at a teetering point, and he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. He was spiraling down a black pit, and there was nothing that was going to stop him. Once you're falling through the air, it's impossible to turn yourself around. The gravity of my actions was pulling him down, down, down. He saw black until sanity began to creep from the confines of his mind, leaving little more than a skeleton-like remnant of who he once was. Not inanimate but inactive, still alive but very much aloof, he started to passively float through the steps of life, numb.

As seemed to be the theme of my days recently, I was questioning my reality, questioning my dreams, questioning my mind, questioning what was real, what was imagined, and then questioning why. I was feeling displaced, like an outsider, as though I were simply doing a pale impersonation of myself. And not even a good impersonation either, with steps too long, breaths too quick, smile too wide, blinks too slow. Get a hold of yourself, idiot. So I searched the room, searched my world, interrogating the shadows, prodding the corners, acknowledging the spaces, seeking for something to ground myself. Anything at all.

Well I hope you do...

You will hear thunder and remember him, And think: he wanted storms. The rim of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson. And his heart will be on fire. Despite what it may seem, Time does indeed exist here, in small amounts. Feint forces of the universe they were, nearly indiscernible from the nothingness. A wind of change is blowing at him from behind and he needs to push forward with iron determination and a mental clarity hereto before unknown to him. Something in the microcosm that didn't even have a name went bling and against all the laws of probability, he is starting to open his eyes.

You're the only place I need...