Musings by a Graveyard

I don’t know what goes on in me. It is like a pain. It is at once a severe emptiness, a void, and yet it is a heavy weight, like six feet of earth which I cannot bear. I am in tears, but why? Have I been struck? Have tongues wagged against me? No, I have felt no touch, nor heard any voice other than my own.

How swift it is to turn into anger, but there is no one to be angry at.

All I want to do is cut out this painful organ, this necrotic heart which is only numb or else writhing in internal agony. I have no peace with it. It assaults me with wordless longing, and then, despair, I am alone.

It separates me from all company, from all love and goodness. I have no hope.

Still, in the crazed visions of the night, I search for the light. All I find is a graveyard somewhere in my future, the cold stones, reasonless, meaningless, names unspoken, visages no one remembers. The stone is dead; my heart dying. What are dreams?

There is no one beside me as I walk by the graves; no one sees.

I am alone.