Space

I am alone in this. And I want to scream.

I can't. Nobody listens. Nobody wants to anymore.

The world is full of fools with no more to give but emptiness and fire.

I am surrounded by zealots and angry men who wish to go back to their mistresses and gods.

But they cannot.

No one can. Not anymore.

We are stuck in these four walls together. There is no music. There is no food. There is just silence. And the ticking. The awful ticking on the old wall above the empty kitchen shelves.

And I hate it. I hate to see friends no longer friends keep silent and keep to themselves, angry and full of ego.

To remember how one month ago almost all of us were crowded together.

Hugging.

Kissing.

Holding hands.

Remember that? How long ago it must be, to feel this ache. This hunger.

The crave for connection in a connected world.

I sit here, alone, among so many.

I cry at night, hoping it is a bad dream.

That the music and the colors will finally play once more.

That the floor will open and I will hold her hand once more.

That the sky will part and the dotted tears of old will shine on us once more.

That the roads are clean again, and I may see her once more.

That I may paint and draw and scream into the wild, naked and a sinner to you all.

Once more.

Once more.

Once more.

These four walls will do for now. This... space.