Monday, November 1, 1993

Alone

All alone in a dark empty corner, on a dark empty street, lies a small pale boy praying for sleep, an unending sleep that will last forever long; where all will be dazzling white and he will be among friends. Never again will he be alone, in this place where all will understand. He is isolated, like being buried alive in a small coffin. Often surrounded by thousands, he is trapped in a sea of empty corpses. The heartless shells of people mill about him and flow over him like a drowning tide. He is surrounded by people under a darkened stormy sky. He stands alone, drawn back into his body, like a clam in its shell. But he is still there, huddled in a corner of his mind. No one understands what goes on inside him; they're all so different. All he wants is a friend, one who will understand him, be like him. The utter aloneness, darkness, deafening silence will bring his death, maybe his wish. All alone in a dark empty corner, on a dark empty street, lies this small pale boy praying for sleep.

- Mike Wood

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