Monday, February 09, 2009

Gibberish - iii

It’s dark and silent out here. A run-down wheel and a broken lantern, placed in front of a wall, a billboard, with half a smile of the shiny whites, a muffled cough and then a sudden cry – or maybe a gasp. Everything is so empty. Whispers, maybe, but no buses or trucks.

It’s dark and silent and empty. Your hands hold on to you, give you comfort. You examine your pain and provide solace. You wipe your own tears and smile at the nothingness. There’s no one else out there. You hold out your hands, close your eyes, and try to touch warmth, skin, life. There’s no one out there. It’s dark and silent and empty and dark and cold. Whispers, maybe, but no buses or trucks or traffic policemen or the usual shrills of a watchman’s whistle.

You hold your heart and examine your pain and then smile out into the nothingness.