October 24, 2010

• Her Dead Eyes In The Dark

  I guess you could say she never really knew what love was. She never felt it emulating from anyone. Everything was always dead; cold. Blank screens and eyes and nothing that ever really mattered. She was cracked and torn. Bruised and battered. A young woman, standing alone, always surrounded. They stared and touched, crowded. But she only suffocated from their skin deep interest. She only knew what it felt like to never breathe. Shattering rasps and gasping words.

  She floated through, never touching. Her dead eyes saw through souls that only passed by. Never stopping. Time had no meaning there and here. She only hurt herself to know she wasn’t dreaming. Dreams filled with dark and decay and screams and blackness and fear. Fear. She only felt it vicariously through her dreams. Her waking dreams. They were always searching. Never finding. No peace. No solace. No rest.

  She found herself on an island. Deserted desert sand. Forsaken thoughts stranded her here. She couldn’t find her way back to nothing. That’s all it ever was. It was black and white and gray.

  She looked around. The colors were bright. When had she gotten here? She felt saved. When had she awoken? She felt things. Pins and needles on her skin and sharp steel penetrating her thoughts. Black and white and gray and red were gone. She was okay. She wasn’t running. She wasn’t dreaming. She just was. But the questions remained.

  Where had the darkness gone? Was it hiding? Waiting for her?

  Trepidation.

  • 1:06 am
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