Drill down deeper
Hold on tighter
To the rope that you grip and hang from
This is here
Nowhere but here.
He watches out of the corner of his eye as the clock moved forward to 2:43. He should have gone out. What was he thinking? The silence is too much for him. He gets up, goes to the fridge, grabs a beer, and turns on the tv. Cop shows. He turns off the tv, powers up his computer, and turns on some music, takes a nice drink and leans back in his chair. It has only been a week, and he feels out of control without her. He longs to escape the pain, but how does one do that? Alcohol, drugs, sex. Nothing seems to be right. The silence is coming back again, even with the music on. He gets his coat on to go for a walk. Hearing the cars going by may help. He starts walking the the stairs of his apartment building and notices that someone had left the main door open. He goes down to investigate. He looks outside and sees nothing strange, so continues on his way. The air feels brisk, but it feels nice to feel something. There are a few cars still driving by and this, along with the fresh air, comforts him. Not one person in sight anywhere though. He decides then and there to move out of the neighborhood. He needs people around. This won’t do.
He turns the corner. Still nothing. He walks; his footsteps the only sound and they echo loudly against the walls of the surrounding buildings. He sees a light on in one of the windows and a shadow appears behind the curtains. The figure of a female? Maybe. He continues on. The rhythm of his feel propelling his body to move forward even though he is apathetic to everything. Why move, why breathe, when this is the way it will be? This is reality, isn’t it? Feeling a lack of control, being without from within. He misses her touch, her presence. It brought him out of himself, at least for a little while. Now, all he has is his internal landscape, his barren thoughts, and guilt over doing the wrong thing. It tears up his mind to think that he could have done something differently. But why? Could it have changed things? Could it have mattered? He turns the corner to veer back to his apartment. He opens the bottom door to the sound of music. Could one of the neighbors have woken up since he left? He mounts the stairs. The music is coming from upstairs, and it is loud. Sounds like trance or techno. Nobody else stirs in the hallway. Not another noise around. Just the music. As he reaches the top of the stairs he realizes suddenly that, yes, it is coming from his apartment. The door is ajar. He pushes it open and sees a woman in green standing there. No, dancing there, slowly. Her eyes are closed, and she is swaying back and forth. Her hair is a mass of waves and tendrils like chaotic waterfalls. He stands there stunned watching her. Her outfit is all green: a silk-like material, like nothing he has ever seen before. Almost iridescent in the light of his apartment. One light is on: the floor lamp next to the couch, yet she glows more deeply than she should. She continues to sway, the music changes to something more mellow and acoustic. He lies down on the couch and just sits, watching intently. His eyes close and sleep takes over him, comforting his weary synapsing neurons. They settle down after a long battle. He goes deeper, still hearing the music. He feels hands on his face caressing him, and he falls, losing whatever grip he had left on the past, on the future. He simply falls.