The Empty
Cold
Wet and cold
A soft mist caressing a cheek
Who am I?
Static- and something else
Ah, yes. Waves
Numb
Static and waves and numbness
And? Something else- something… new?
A feeling, a name
Not his, no. But a name none the less
Jon.
Warmth pushing away the cold
Jon.
How could he forget Jon
A voice calls out
“Tut tut, that simply won’t do.”
The stati grows louder
Consuming everything
Waves crash and water laps at his feet
Static increases
Swallowing him
And then
Nothing
**********
An image
Flashing across his brain
Dark, scarred skin
Long, soft, wavy hair peppered with grey
A smile-
Small and rare. For his eyes only
Eyes
Brown? No, green.
No
Red
A name?
Martin?
MAAAtin.
No
That’s not correct
Static rushes in
Everything drowns
Leaving him feeling
Nothing
*************
A hand
Lumpy, pink, soft, warm
Gentle touches
A bed
Uncomfortable
Scratchy sheets
That lumpy, pink, beautiful hand encased in his own
Cold, unmoving
The soft sounds of machines and regulated breathing
A new feeling
Ripping through his chest
Tearing him open
Leaving him hollowed out and cold
Take it away
This time
The static is welcome
************
He is nothing and nothing is good
There is no pain when you’re nothing
No Fear
He’s sitting now on ground that is not- ground
It’s … sand
He runs his fingers through it, creating soft mounts and ruts
He feels nothing
He is nothing
He is
Alone