Chamber of Guf ( When No One Listens )

by R.T. Allenson


He sat in melancholy with a kiss of pain still lingering on his cheek and the familiar warmth trickling from his wrists. Eyes twitching, searching aimlessly for familiarity. The cold begins to take him deep, but he resists for a while; his will to know is far stronger than the claim of death.

His fingers strike like lightning on the keyboard; thundering rhythms make testament to his urgency. He grows weaker still, but he types on…

Of unwavering and cruel time, taking away all things and returning them at the most precise moment. It excoriates you until you bleed yourself dry, you cry yourself to sleep and the night ushers you into solemnity. When you break down the walls around you to let it all in, it’s hard to put them back. The cracks in-between let it all in, softly of course, until they flow through everything like a deluge of souls from…

The screen blares at him, white with emptiness. He sees it there, what he’s been waiting for but it isn’t from who he’s waiting for. The pain clenches his heart –  a familiar feeling of anxiety, loneliness, the sadness when no one listens.  His eyes begin to give way and slowly, tears trickle down his cheek and fall coldly on his keyboard.

Waiting…waiting…waiting…the coldness is unbearable and the memories, eternal. Undying.

He’s giving birth to a world within his treasury of a body and all its intricate chambers. He feels nothing for it – oblivious, apathetic. There are things he would worry about and people he would care for, in solace at least he is safe.

When no one listens, only hears, it is death. You die a little inside until you slowly lose everything and you are all but memory – fading into oblivion, far into the empty concourse.

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