How real is this fact
That I’m out here, able and intact
Underneath shelters and shelters of
Clothes, blankets and thick walls
Preserved in like a specimen
Segregated and closed off in a pitch black cellular chamber
That’s silent, faraway, and forgotten
Awake, with a buried heart that wonders
Whether there’s a man in a forest
Who could hear
Driving through the highway
Piercing through storms… charging our way
Your silluette before I; rocking between my half closed eyes
The backdrop, a black wall sky
Behind you, I
The voice tells me to get into the elevator and to go to a certain floor. I do so as told. Instinct tells me to walk down the hallway. There’s promise of a grand prize; the greatest thing, the highest goal. There’s supposed to be something that I’ve always wanted at the finish. I’m told to open the door. I do so.
And there you stand, behind that door
wearing a black and white tuxedo. Your chiseled face looking even sharper against the shadows. Your creamy skin and shiny hair, contrasting each other. Your glass-like eyes, contracting in the spotlight directed at you.
You are fully attentive and looking at me,
but with a look of worry. Wordlessly, you give a notion that you want me back, that you’re begging for me now. That you’re willing to disregard everything for me and that I could too, for you.
But there’s something unkind, untrustworthy, and cold about this whole new setup. There’s doubt brewing in my gut.
There’s an uneven tune playing in my ears.
And there’s a sad, tragic, unstoppable feeling,
that I wished it were true.
It’s useless; every other emotion
that I’m feeling right now.
I don’t know where to find you.
I’m lost again.
I’m seeking beyond the pages printed with dry scientific words. I’m skimming through the shopping catalog plastered with fake beautiful faces.
It’s faster than the car ride that can’t seem to fly higher; tastier than a meal that just can’t satisfy.
This hunger, for strictly you.
smaller than a molecule in the furthest corner of a parallel, deep, dark universe. So much further than tomorrow morning
so nonexistent right now.
This night is cursed and callous,
Everything chokes of dust and death. My throat is calcified, and my skin is pale. I try and try to leave this place
but it’s in my face
like a wall of bricks. I stop and search across it with my fingers.
I don’t know where else to look from here. I’m standing, but I’m so quiet and small.
I’m a blind mice
running down a maze engineered with high walls. Speculated by scientists and the good citizens of the world.
I feel trapped
as if I’m crushed under a ton of weight.
There’s void; monochrome nothingness in my pitch black eyes.
This inevitable, hungry, saddening
That I can’t find you.
She walked over to him and said, “I need to have a discussion with you.”
“Ok” he said.
“It’s about colors. I hate black. I hate black vehemently. I even hate grey. You know what, I hate blue too. In fact, blue repulses me. Blue is like a traitor color. But I truly hate black. You can put all the shades of grey, black, and blue together and send them all to hell. I hate them all! I even hate ombré!”
“Wow ok” he responded.
“It’s disgusting” she snarled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said goodbye to her colleague as she put on her black coat and walked out of the office at the end of the day.