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Two Moments
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Two Moments |
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Masked Intruder
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-05-23
Posts 1231Near golden sunsets 
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As I sit here ignoring my homework and thinking only of playing, I peer out dirt encrusted windows and into the chill wintry air. I watch as dead leaves blow across grass not quite green and dry sticks scratch at illusory enemies. My eyes glaze over and my vision blurs, mixing all these images into one gigantic mass of distorted reality. Out of this mass figures take shape. The ones I love, smiles on their faces, beaming with joy and pleasure. They approach with arms outstretched ready to give me that embrace that I have been awaiting for many years. I stretch out a hand; reaching, straining, grasping at thin air and illusions that only fade away. Then the ones I despise, all scowls and dirty looks towards my loveless attention. They skirt the trees and hide behind the bushes casting furtive glances around them, fearing ill will and hate. I am sorrowed by the agony they seem to go through, by the pain written all over their faces. I again reach out my hand, willing to help them for the first time in my life; but it is too late. Their eyes tell me so as they too fade back into that distorted reality. Like the dead leaves I had seen, more apparitions blow in on the wind. These are those I paid no attention to, none at all. I passed them in the hallways, on the streets, in my own home. I gave them disinterested looks, sometimes maybe a nod. And the looks they return me now make my stomach churn. I avert my eyes, telling myself they aren't there, they will go away. But these don't. They come closer and closer, through the windows that are no longer there, nearer and nearer. I curl up; keep them away. Hands paw at my body, their maniacal laughter echoes through my mind; their taunts wrack my body again and again. No, no, no! I lurch to my feet. I stare out windows encrusted with dirt, to watch dead leaves blow across grass not quite green and dry sticks scratch at my own illusory enemies. |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Hear this - we are our own worst enemies. Sigh - sad but true. Christopher |
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