Hollow Heart

This is a short piece that I wrote a few years back. It just sums up what it is like to feel like your goals and dreams are simply out of reach.

I look up to the burdensome stars and see the darkness that consumes them. The Clouds of night are keeping them from view. I realize then that my soul is hindered by the monotonous drone of this life that holds me captive. I do nothing. I know nothing. Fear spreads its spiny fingers across my sunken chest. They have such a grip on my shallow heart. It pains me to see what I am worth. I hide my eyes in fear of who I have become. I turn to run, but my feet are planted like the autumn trees. Firm beneath the soil are my toes. Like roots they soak up the stench from the landfills. I hate their bitter taste, but have nowhere to go. I am captured by my lethargy. A hostage to my nothingness. The only thing left to do is to carve my legs from the solid ground. Amputation is the only thing that will set me free, so I take hold of my tongue. It's words cut deep into my flesh, ripping muscles and tearing tendons. The pain is greater that I anticipated, but what else can I do? With the final lashing, my body is free. Legs like stumps rooted next to my weak body. I slowly become the corpse that I have always known to be. My arms pull and scrape at the ground, but I only rake up fresh soil. This is the place in which I was destined to die. Apart from my roots, but with no strength to lead me to the place I longed to go. I draw my final breath through exasperated lungs and find that death comes easy to those that have nothing else to live for. So, here my body wilts. Like dying foliage my corpse becomes the earth that I once feared. I return to that solid mass a green and hellish plant. Fungus resides within me and insects rent out my organs. They feast on the fat that weighed me down. The burdens are no longer mine to bare. Now there is only peace. Peace or more dominantly remorse for the life that I chose to give up. The Life that I did not know how to live. My souls wanders, but my mind is now gone and I can finally rest upon the trodden earth. Sleep comes so easily after the shade of night.

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[char]

Nothing is ever out of reach. You can spend years complaining, or spend years doing. Everyone is worth something. Even if it's just a penny.

[A. H. Pinley]

When we were young, we stood like strong erect trees with so much hope and promise, but as time withers on and our skin turns from a off or sometimes dirty pink color to grey, like a tree that has seen the course of time take it's toll on the landscape, we grow weak, brittle and hard towards the life we once knew all too well. There's always time for sleep, but the day grows shorter by the year for living life, for chancing that dream that seems so elusive, like a cat chasing a mouse only to lose the pest in a hole in the wall. Welcome aboard!