Do you feel empty, ever? Do you feel empty right now, too tired to get up, slowly shrinking away from the surrounding space waste, eyes staring unseeingly right into the sun, into a bright blue sky you’ve probably come to hate until nothing remains. Absolutely nothing. Empty like a shell. The thing is, even shells have a story, but you don’t. It seems too far to be remembered. What’s a dream, what’s not, what’s a dream? How do you do it anyway? (“The average human being spends eight hours a day, fifty six hours a week, two hundred twenty-four hours a month, and two thousand, six hundred eighty-eight hours a year sleeping”). Time disappears, and you do too, along with it. You vanished. You don’t exist anymore. You’re not non-existent either. You’re not. I am. Time(s) run away and I’m stuck there, greed growing fast and clawing its way up my stomach, waiting till dawn to filigree in my throat, mouth, brain, dreams (what’s left and all the rest). A year ago I was empty of violent feelings. I was a mere observer out of my own life. It was disturbing but I revelled in it for a bit. Now I’m empty of the most awful kind of emptiness. I cannot understand it. It seems forced on me. As if to make me forget something important. Is it greed? Is it the dreams that were broken this past year? Is it the ones people around me fulfill everyday? (filigreeing, filigreeing, …). And then, I wish for complicated situations, something that won’t allow me to think outside the moment. What do you wish for? Do you even think still? Probably not. You listen but hear nothing. Wind in a world where there can’t be none.
(The world will burn, but “baby, you should stick around.”)