My empty eyes look towards the heavens. The sky, foreboding and forlorn. Hanging there like a proscenium in ruin, spotted with dark clouds looking like so many bits of cracked plaster waiting to peel back and fall down upon my skull.
A cold wind blows from the east, ushering in the night, which spreads across the land like a blanket of impenetrable ebony. A velveteen wraith spreading its bony limbs to all four corners of the heavens, as if to reach out with its decaying hands to rip asunder the curtain of protective daylight revealing the nocturnal void of darkness that lays just behind.
Like the ashes of the Phoenix yet to be reborn, black as pitch hiding the world in a depressing neverland of darkness, where all manner of beast come to satiate their desires, both sublime and gross.
Even the silvery light from the moon is obscured by the gathering cumulation of vaporous water in the firmament of infinity. My heart beats slow and ponderous, echoing in my ears, the only break from the deathly still silence permeating the landscape like an icy funeral shroud. The beating of the heart continues, almost mockingly, a bitter reminder that my wretched existence continues unabated. How I wish it would burst forth from its prison of flesh, blood, and bone, to fall upon the ground and ebb profusely its crimson liquid of life, ending my miserable existence on this pitiless ball of rock.
All the colors of love and companionship fade to an obsidian haze. The endless empty pit of my soul reverberates with disdain. The ages pass and nibble at my flesh like so many demons, withering away my youth until I am a decrepit and frail reflection of happier times.
copyright © 2016 Gene Chiovari
