When you love no one but your shadow...

It is that feeling of boredom, of uncertainty when you see no one in your heart but the blood that surges that life through your veins. Sure, we get to be restless of waiting, of waiting and of that endless waiting every day. Even the air seems to stop with time as you hold yourself against that stolid wall and you stand with one foot, aimlessly staring above the dark night clouds.

You feel how remote you are...not even your soul you can get a grasp on. Not even your sanity who seems to be lurking but not at your threshold of consciousness. No sense of urgency, no sense of immediacy, but only that sense of want to be spending some smoky nights and wake the next day wanting to have another smoky night again. But it is just nowhere out of sight...out of reach...


As everything goes deeper and darker, you sense that single figure behind you. You tried to get a grasp on but it is immensely intangible that even your wits cannot decipher what it holds. Such future when you see nothing but bleakness and gone...You would rather wish to be ubiquitous and come shattering in space than be whole and feel that painful rip of your tears. The dust may spell destiny, and perhaps this is where solace is all about, this is where solitude and tranquility resides.


And what does that dark, abstract figure gives you? A company? A smile? Or a scornful reminder of how meaningless it is to dwell on such dreams that will never come even in your sleep. Maybe a slap to wake you up and vent on the fact that you love no one but your own shadow.