It is twilight here,
It always is,
In this room with no one but me.
Light dimly fades through windows and tattered curtains
I lay here
In the corner of this small rustic room
Staring blankly at the eerie light
The floor, aged with time, is cold beneath me
Shallow breaths escape me creating clouds of vapor that quickly dissipate
The air is still
Except for my breathing
And completely silent
In fact all sound seems to be engulfed in this overpowering silence
Breathing becomes more erratic
I start to shiver as a chill floods over me
Sitting
Standing
Closing the half moth eaten curtains in a desperate yet futile attempt to stop the cold and block the light
I look around at my stationary world
My silent prison
And cry
Tears, plummeting toward the ground in crystal clear calmness, hit the floor shattering symmetrically
I am not sad
I know not why I cry
Tears merely well up and free fall without hesitation
Without flux of feeling
And although tears flow in endless streams over the smooth surface of my face it doesn't last long
A table centers my lifeless void
Set for two but completely empty
There is but one chair and I sit in it for I am weak
Blankly I look at the cluttered walls in front of me
Old and plain
Filled with numerous black and white photos of various sizes
Faceless people
Unmoving
Unforgiving
Piercing eyes that stare with hated hardened hearts
Why won’t they stop looking at me with such eyes?
My body tensed and relaxed simultaneously
Isolated
Pictures of a time when time had meaning
I am empty
Lifeless
The gleam of truth upon the table
Vision blurred
Senses mingled
Blood flowed freely
Again
Again
Cutting deeper into life's great vain
Clashing consciousnesses
Anger broils
Blood falls on previously stained surfaces
Truth falls from grasp
All my soul hates
Hate my soul do I
Throwing against the wall
Collapsing
Screaming
Hitting the floor for reason beyond reason
Crouching in the corner with my hands on my head shirt stained and stammering incoherent words of meaningless conversation back and forth
The air is stale
Hitting the floor again
Over
Over
over.
over..
over...
...over...
I lay here
Falling asleep
Cold
Weak
Looking at the deep red pools of blood that in the light looked nearly golden
Knowing not when I will wake again
The world I see is my own
It is twilight here
It always is
In this room with no one but me